Logical Propositions
by StarTrekFanWriter
Summary: Started as a Kink Meme fill with the premise that Kirk, against all odds attended the VSA. And it became a Kirk/T'Pring story.  Background S/U.  Full prompt inside.
1. T'Pring

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

**Full Prompt:**

I don't think I've ever seen a fic quite like this, but I would love to read an AU in which Kirk, against all odds, attends the VSA.

Maybe he does it instead of Starfleet, or maybe he decides to take the entrance examinations at the request of Starfleet Academy. (Like maybe it looks bad that no other species has ever been accepted to the school, so 'fleet wants their most promising cadet to give it a shot.)

Genius!Kirk is something I just love to death. It would be great to see all of the Vulcans just completely exasperated because here is this totally illogical being who is nevertheless brilliant. Any pairing is fine, though K/S seems the most obvious.

However you do it, I will love you forever. I need this fic. Long, short, or anywhere in between.

**I have a thing for unusual pairings...and I wanted to show more than just exasperation at Mr. Kirk's demeanor. And so I present to you ...**

**Logical Propositions**

"Mr. Kirk," said T'Pring, "I was wondering if you might be available to discuss your interpretation of the Gödel metric. I find it fascinating and -"

"Not as fascinating as I find you, Babe," the human said. His crescent-shaped eyebrows did a most fascinating dance upon his forehead. A grin spread across his attractive, yet alien, symmetrical features.

T'Pring tilted her head. James T. Kirk, the exchange student from Starfleet, was a genius by any quantitative measurement. Therefore, she should not get flummoxed if she didn't understand his every utterance. This was her chance to expand her knowledge of other species! "It is true," she said, "that Vulcans do not have any standard age of complete maturity. However, by any definition, I am not a baby. At least, no Vulcan definition. Would humans consider me a baby? Perhaps because I am unmarried and unbonded?"

Her stomach constricted at the admission, but it was illogical not to be forthright about her status, even if it pained her to think of Spock's rejection of her. From across the familial bond she felt her mother, father and sister sense her distress. They sent her waves of comfort. She straightened.

Laughing, the human said, "No, I would not consider you a baby at all."

"Then why refer to me as one?" asked T'Pring.

"It is a figure of speech we refer to when describing a hot chick."

"I am not a juvenile member of any bird species," said T'Pring, forcing her forehead to remain smooth as incomprehension threatened to knit her eyebrows together. "And although my basal metabolic rate is higher than yours -"

"So you wanted to discuss my interpretation of Gödel metrics?" He said, smile completely gone.

x x x x

"That was a fascinating discussion, Mr. Kirk," T'Pring said. It was getting late. She reached across the family bond to reassure her parents that she was alright. They had been a little concerned when she'd said she would be spending time with a human male. Humans were notoriously promiscuous.

"Want to come back to my place for a coffee?" he said, eyebrows dancing again above his exotic blue eyes, his smile returning.

T'Pring blinked. She had been worried he might try to proposition her, a strangely exciting, but ultimately unsettling, illogical prospect. Why engage in sexual relations that did not lead to children or the nurturing of a life long bond? But instead she got this generous offer! Coffee was very expensive on Vulcan. "Thank you, Mr. Kirk. However, tonight I promised to help my younger sister in her meditation practice. It is a little known fact that Vulcans are affected by caffeine and I would not be able to fulfill my duty to her if I were to partake of your offer."

She looked at him hopefully. Perhaps he would invite her back for some kasaa juice or some other non-caffeinated beverage instead?

"Errr..." he said, smile dropping, "maybe some other time."

T'Pring did her best to hide her disappointment.

x x x x

"You did not write it," Desalvic said, glaring down at Mr. Kirk as he sat across from T'Pring in the Satisfactory Tea cafe.

T'Pring stifled her internal urge to spit at Desalvic. She looked over at Mr. Kirk to see how the human reacted. If he felt any anger, he was hiding it well. In fact, he was smiling. Fascinating.

"Based on what evidence?" he asked.

"No human could have come up with that theorem," said Desalvic.

Tilting his head, Mr. Kirk said, "I'm going to ignore the fact that you're basing your conclusion on an ad hominem - even though it does make your argument completely _illogical_..." Mr. Kirk smiled _very_ wide to let the insult sink in. He understood Vulcans rather well, T'Pring thought with satisfaction.

"...because I'm just so curious as to who wrote it if I didn't," he said tilting his head in the opposite direction.

Desalvic straightened. "Perhaps she did," he said, motioning his head towards T'Pring.

T'Pring was, even for a Vulcan, a master of self-control. However, that was too much for her to ignore. "That is as illogical as your ad hominem," she said. "It is well known my thinking is not original enough to have devised such a clever solution to the problem of relativity preventing closed time-like curves." Which is why she stuck to the very practical field of Vulcan and xeno medicine, only delving into theoretical physics as a hobby.

Mr. Kirk's smile vanished completely for some reason.

Desalvic said something in Vulcan that made T'Pring's ears go green. T'Pring responded curtly in the same language.

Narrowing his eyes at her, Desalvic nodded his head at Mr. Kirk and then walked away.

"What were you talking about?" said Mr. Kirk with a frown.

It was very odd, but intelligent as Mr. Kirk was, he had difficulty learning languages, something almost any Vulcan did with ease.

T'Pring restrained a sigh. "He commented on your lack of sexual mores. I assured him that your behavior towards me has been nothing but gentlemanly." Mr. Kirk did not seem to partake in anything as illogical as unbonded promiscuity.

Mr. Kirk's frown vanished. It was replaced by wide eyes and a curious 'o' shape of his mouth.

Well, if he could get over his anger, certainly she could, too. "Now," she said pertly, "you had suggested we return to your place to look at your etchings."

She was very impressed to learn that Mr. Kirk counted artistic ability as one of his many talents.

"Errr..." said Mr. Kirk licking his lips and not meeting her eyes. "Maybe some other time."

T'Pring hoped that her face did not betray her disappointment.

x x x x

"It was illogical to attack them," said T'Pring, cradling the head of Mr. Kirk in her lap. "You have never responded violently to goading before." She shook her head. "I do not understand -"

"They called you a whore for hanging around me! I know enough Vulcan to understand that," Mr. Kirk said sitting up and not meeting her eyes.

Oh.

She was touched. But also worried. "Vulcan males are three times as strong as you are, Mr. Kirk. Attacking one is foolhardy, attacking three..."

"Do you have to keep calling me Mr. Kirk? We've known each other a few months now. Can you please call me by my first name?" He said turning to look at her.

A purple welt was spreading across one cheek. His hair was askew, and the alien curves of his ears protruded, crusted with red. More blood, red and alien was leaking from the side of his mouth.

T'Pring swallowed. She had witnessed just how illogical her species could be during her association with Mr. Kirk. He seemed to bring it out in them. Maybe it was the way he managed to intellectually outmaneuver them, even as he never succeeded, or even tried to hide his emotions. T'Pring found the disconnect between his mind and outward control fascinating, but most of her fellow Vulcans did not.

Wincing, Mr. Kirk brought a hand up to his bleeding lip. His movements were stiff, painful even to watch...

...because he'd defended her honor.

"Very well, James," she said.

"Jim," he said.

She blinked. "But your name is James. Why would I call you Jim?"

He sighed, and then smiled. "Okay, James."

His jaw got hard. "No one, no one, should call you a whore."

"Vengeance is illogical," T'Pring said. Even if she personally wanted to gouge out her foes' eyes with a serrated spoon for what they'd done to him.

"I know," said Mr. Kirk – James' eyes on her.

"But there is a 3D chess competition to be held at the Academy in three weeks' time," T'Pring said, suddenly hit with inspiration. "I know the three gentleman whose acquaintance you just made are entered, as I myself am."

"I was the Northern Hemisphere's 3D chess champion in 8th grade," said Jim. "Can I still enter the tournament?"

"Yes," said T'Pring, having no doubt at all that even if James or she did not win the tournament, they could at least best their detractors.

"I've got a set at my place," James said, getting up stiffly. "Want to come over and practice?"

T'Pring tilted her head. She wondered if meditation might be a better idea. Upon reflection, wanting to gouge out someone's eyes for hurting James _might_ not be completely logical. She was conflicted on the matter.

"I really mean it..." James said quickly. "We'll just practice chess."

Blinking, T'Pring said, "What else would we do?"

"Errr..." said James.

Obviously her hesitation had made him uncomfortable. "I accept your offer," she said. "Let us play chess."

Three weeks later T'Pring achieved her highest standing ever in the Vulcan Science Academy's chess tournament. Practicing chess with an unpredictable human had helped her skills immensely. As she expected, James did not win the tournament, but he trounced the Vulcans who had injured him and insulted T'Pring. It restored T'Pring's faith in Surak's principles of non-violence. After all, if she had merely gouged out their eyes a few weeks ago, their humiliation would not have been so thoroughly logical or wonderfully public.

x x x x

"Well," said James, "I guess this is goodbye."

They were standing facing each other outside the Satisfactory Tea cafe. "Yes," said T'Pring. His year as an exchange student was over. He would leave for Earth and Starfleet tomorrow. And then...off to the stars. Even imagining that life made T'Pring fonder of the safe red earth beneath her feet. To imagine James out there, with all the death, disease and uncertainty...

She could not bring herself to turn away from him. "Or perhaps," she swallowed, hoping she was not being too forward, "you could treat me to that coffee at your place. The cup you offered me when we first met. If caffeine prevents me from meditating tonight, so be it."

James ran his hands through his golden hair. He did that when he was nervous. Had she been too bold?

"I packed up all my coffee and my coffee maker already," he said.

Oh. How disappointing. She wasn't thinking of missing out on the exotic drink. It was the thought of never talking to him again. Never seeing him smile, never puzzling over the wide variety of expressions that played across his features. T'Pring had catalogued no fewer than 939 variations in facial muscle contortions, 930 of which were completely mysterious.

"Would you like to just...walk?" he said.

"Just walk?" said T'Pring. It was better than nothing, but still...

He laughed, "And talk too."

"That would be acceptable," said T'Pring.

x x x x

T'Pring's feet, despite the lightness of the gravity on Earth, felt like they were being dragged into the cold cement floor of the Starfleet hangar. Her mind was empty. The telepathic bonds with her father, mother and little sister severed forever. Only the tide of her fellow refugees kept her moving.

She knew no one around her. Her sister had been killed in the initial tremors. Her parents had telepathically coerced her to take the last seat on the transport...she hadn't been strong enough to force one of them to go in her stead.

Vulcans could not cry; it was a waste of precious eye secretions. T'Pring wondered if she could cry if the water would carry away some of her sorrows. She swallowed...even if it did, she was surrounded by strangers...her world was destroyed, her physical world, but also her internal world. She would never be the same again.

"T'Pring! T'Pring!"

T'Pring's breath caught in her throat. She turned her head and stopped. The wave of Vulcans parted and a familiar figure came crashing through, clothed in brilliant crimson, his golden hair gleaming beneath the hangar's floodlights.

"T'Pring! T'Pring! I thought you were..." He was a blur and suddenly T'Pring found herself on the receiving end of a human embrace. She stood rigid, unsure of what to do.

He pressed his forehead to hers and T'Pring felt wetness fall upon her cheeks. He smelled clean, like soap and coffee. James' hands left her back and went to her face and it was all she could do to hold up her shields.

"James..." she stammered. "My control is weak...I am...I cannot hold off telepathic contact..."

He pulled back, hands still on her face. His eyes were wet. He was sad. She didn't understand.

"I don't care, I don't care," he said.

She did not want to puzzle over his mysterious tears. Not now. At his words, T'Pring's shields fell like a curtain, and she was suddenly seeing...grief, affection, joy. Overwhelming joy. He was crying because he was happy to see her.

"Fascinating," she said. Because it was. And for a moment it took her away from everything.

James laughed. And then she saw other things in his mind: how difficult some of those smiles had come when he faced his antagonists on Vulcan, how much he had appreciated her friendship, how beautiful he thought she was …what all those invitations back to his place really meant, how much he desired her. How promiscuous he was...

Face reddening, he pulled his hands away and she ached at the loss of his touch, the loss of his presence. Putting his hands through his hair he said, "Sorry."

"It is alright, James," she said. And it was. She was just grateful to see him. To have not been alone in her mind, even if it was just for a moment.

He looked around her. "Where are they taking you?"

T'Pring looked at the lines of her people, walking around her, faces blank, not meeting her eyes or the eyes of each other. "We were told that cots have been put in the Starfleet amphitheater for us."

"Your family?" said James. "Will they be with you?"

T'Pring swallowed and looked down. "I am alone." She had nothing. Only the clothes on her back. She hadn't changed or taken a sonic shower in the two weeks since her vessel had been found and tugged to Earth.

"No," said James.

Lifting her head she found his eyes on her, his jaw tight.

"No," he said again, shaking his head. "You can't stay there." Taking her wrist, he dragged her through the crowd. "I have officers' quarters now. Don't ask; it's a strange story. You'll stay with me."

Turning to her he said softly, "Don't worry, I'll sleep on the couch."

T'Pring tilted her head.

Later that night, she emerged from the sanitary cubicle in his robe. James was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of loose trousers. The muscles beneath his golden hued skin rippled as he spread a sheet over the couch. The couch wasn't big enough to accommodate his frame. He would either have to sleep body bowed in fetal position, or with his bare feet hanging over the edge. For some reason that image of his bare feet, cold, in open air was too much.

She looked past him to the bedroom. "It is illogical," she said, "for you to sleep on the couch when the bed will easily accommodate two."

Halting his efforts to tuck the sheet into the couch cushions, he stood and put his hands through his hair. "T'Pring, I...if..." He closed his eyes. "If I share a bed with you, I won't be sleeping."

T'Pring tilted her head. She thought she understood his meaning, but wished he would for once talk directly. "James, please be direct" she said.

James quietly came forward and put his hands to her temples. She let her shields drop and an image of her and him, bodies joined, flashed across her vision. It made her body go warm and for a moment the universe disappeared. But then the image was followed by a silent apology from him...for the image...for his desires that were so inappropriate at a time like this...

But they didn't seem inappropriate to T'Pring. Especially at a time like this. Claiming all the comfort she could _while_ she could seemed entirely...logical.

"Come," she said, taking his hand.

_**To be continued...**_

**A/N:**

Special thanks to Beta Notes From the Classroom. Check out her awesome "People Will Say" For Spock and Nyota goodness.

Reviews are love! If you enjoyed this story please let me know.


	2. Jim

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit. **

Special thanks to Beta Notes from the Classroom. Check out her latest, Twenty four-hundred in my faves.

**Jim**

The whole of Vulcan was like Iowa in the middle of summer - but with higher gravity and less oxygen. It was less humid, which would seem like a boon, but it was so dry Jim's lips split and bled - Hell, his feet did, too.

And Vulcans, well, they could say that they were logical, but for logical people they were sure prickly. Not to mention arrogant.

He didn't know whose idea it was to send a Starfleet cadet to the Vulcan Science Academy as an exchange student, but he doubted it was a Vulcan's idea. All the Vulcans he'd met either ignored him or took to arguing about his interpretation of the Gödel metric _ad nauseam_ - or _ad nausea,_ as Kirk was prone to say. Not that anyone here got the joke. It was his Gödel interpretation that supposedly "won" him the opportunity to come. By the end of his third week Kirk had decided that he'd just pissed the wrong officer-posing-as-a-physics-instructor off and this was his punishment.

Now leaving the VSA physics building after a long "discussion" of matching cosmological constants to quantum particles - and no, it wasn't impossible, you just had to adjust for the possibility of entanglement of said particles, and even if the exact method of doing that hadn't been discovered yet, it _would_ be - he was just about ready to run a car off a cliff for the second time in his life. Failing that, the lead VSA physcist's hover bike would do just fine.

But that would be wrong. Very wrong. And he'd worked hard to shake his juvenile delinquent image - but damn it...

"Mr. Kirk," said a haughty female voice from behind. "I was wondering if you might be available to discuss your interpretation of the Gödel metric. I find it fascinating and -"

Jim spun around to face a petite Vulcan woman who looked his age, but she was Vulcan, and for all he knew could be 65. With her tiny upturned nose, imperious angled eyebrows and damn stick up the ass posture she was just as haughty as he'd imagined.

She was also pretty hot, despite the stick up the ass thing - really, on her it looked more like the poise of a dancer. She was brown eyed, with neatly pulled back long chestnut hair, and had high cheek bones that gave her a pixieish appearance.

He took a breath. She was just here to argue with him, and he was not in the mood. Not to argue anyway.

He'd hit on her, just to piss her off. And if he got lucky, well. He dropped his eyes from her face to pert breasts, a lovely little nipped waist, and all the way down to dainty little feet. He was so there. Of course, he'd been warned that he wouldn't get there, or anywhere on Vulcan. Many times. But Jim Kirk didn't believe in no win scenarios.

"Not as fascinating as I find you, Babe," he said giving her a leer and lifting his eyebrows suggestively. Being an ass got you more chicks-more of the ones only interested in one night stands anyway; he had personal data to back it up. Simple, one nighters were all he needed right now, while he was on the fast track to captaincy, thank you very much. Relationships were too much work.

Face remaining perfectly neutral she said, "It is true that Vulcans do not have any standard age of complete maturity. However, by any definition, I am not a baby. At least, no Vulcan definition. Would humans consider me a baby? Perhaps because I am unmarried and unbonded?"

Laughing because obviously she'd come to argue with him but had been up-ended by a simple turn of phrase, he said, "No, I would not consider you a baby at all."

"Then why refer to me as one?" asked the Vulcan girl-woman.

"It is a figure of speech we refer to when describing a hot chick," he said wondering if she'd find being referred to as a fowl insulting. Certainly, when Jim had referred to a certain Vulcan's theorem as a "turkey," said Vulcan had been quite irate.

"I am not a juvenile member of any bird species," said the Vulcan-girl-woman matter-of-factly, not resorting to mocking his 'illogical human expressions' or giving him a long, hard stare.

"And although my basal metabolic rate is higher than yours -"

Jim's brow furrowed. It began to occur to him that there was no _there_ there.

Wondering if such a creature could possibly form a coherent insult to his work on Gödel, he said, "So you wanted to discuss my interpretation of the Gödel metric?"

To his surprise, what followed was a very interesting, almost helpful, discussion of closed time curves, and entanglement. T'Pring, as she was called, claimed not to be a very original thinker, but she certainly had an encyclopedic knowledge of physics. She claimed keeping up with the latest research was her hobby, but she only held a doctorate in xenomedicine. Only! It made Jim smirk and oddly feel more at ease. Silly Vulcans.

They lingered over the conversation so long they wound up at a Vulcan tea house, uninspiringly named the "Satisfactory Tea Cafe." Thankfully, the drinks were actually more than satisfactory - if you took into account they weren't alcoholic. Or even caffeinated.

Which gave Jim anidea. Coffee was a rare here, and he had access to coffee. "Want to come back to my place for a coffee?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

Putting her teacup down neatly with soft delicate little fingers that Jim could picture on much more exciting things than a teacup, she said, "Thank you, Mr. Kirk. However, tonight I promised to help my younger sister in her meditation practice. It is a little known fact that Vulcans are affected by caffeine and I would not be able to fulfill my duty to her if I were to partake of your offer."

"Errr..." said Jim. Had she just smacked him down? Although he'd never admit it, that had happened before...but this time he wasn't even sure. "Maybe some other time," he said weakly.

She stared at him a moment - and Jim almost swore he saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes.

"This conversation was quite fascinating," she said. "There is a lecture on the creation of artificial singularities for the purpose of time-travel next week. I know you believe that the creation of a singularity is not strictly necessary, but I think your views on the lecture would be very enlightening. Shall we go?"

"Errrr..." said Jim. Was she asking him out on a date? "Sure?"

x x x x

The lecture was not a date.

It took a while, but it finally dawned on Jim that T'Pring, miss Dr. Xenomedicine, miss encyclopedia of the physics of time travel, was completely oblivious to all his brilliant verbal advances.

To let his intentions be known, he might have touched her- he did _know_ they were touch telepaths-if it weren't for two things.

First off, he'd met an old Vulcan drunk on chocolate milk in a bar at the space station on the way over. Said old Vulcan had told him that the real reason Vulcans didn't like to be touched by _strangers unexpectedly _was that it was deeply disorientating. Like being spun around on a merry-go-round a few too many times. It could make them physically vomit.

He told Jim this after throwing up all over Jim's shirt. Jim had only been trying to hand the old guy a toothpick.

Jim really didn't want to make T'Pring puke. He never offered her any of his secret stash of contraband chocolate candies he'd smuggled on to Vulcan either. Same reason.

Second, what if...what if he just really pissed her off? Jim had never had much sympathy for this wishy-washy kind of reasoning when it came to asking a girl out - or not asking her out as the case might be. But he'd never been an alien on an alien world before. He wasn't the type of person to have close friends per se, but he always was able to charm his way into having a few pals to chum around with at the bar. Not that there were bars on Vulcan; the Satisfactory Tea Cafe was as close as it got.

For the first time in his life he really didn't have anyone just to shoot the breeze with, or just to tell him what an ass he was - well, when he really was an ass. Having your ideas insulted just because they came from you and you were an alien wasn't the same thing.

T'Pring was all he had. She was a very helpful cultural interpreter - it turned out, all those Vulcans who ignored him? They were the good guys. They just wouldn't dream of putting him out by interrupting his day. And she helped him out when his credit chip needed renewal. For some _illogical _reason, credit renewal stations weren't open on Vulcan holidays due to the .08% chance that they could break, thereby causing the repair crew to have to leave off their Vulcan revelry. Vulcan revelry being group meditation, of course. Anyway, he probably would have starved those three days if it weren't for T'Pring and her mom, Mrs. "It is reassuring to know humans are less promiscuous than the Vulcan stereotype. It reaffirms that are similarities are greater than our differences, and validates the close bonds between our species."

Those were actually T'Pring's mom's first words when she met Jim in his dorm and laid a huge care package on his overflowing desk.

All Jim managed to say was, "Errr..." He'd only just put on his shirt when he'd peeked through the view monitor and realized T'Pring wasn't alone. Appearing shirtless wasn't a plan to hit on T'Pring per se - he just was curious what her reaction would be. Sometimes he made little mental wagers to himself about what her responses to overt sexual advances would be. He was guessing appearing without a shirt would bring about a 30 minute discussion on the merits of going without clothes for temperature regulation versus wearing the specially designed clothing with temperature regulators woven into the fabric - and the cultural ramifications of said options.

Of course, _if _T'Pring had seemed moved by him appearing semi-naked...yeah, he would so totally have been there. Well...as long as he didn't think it would damage their relationship. Whatever it was. He wouldn't have made it the first six months without her. Living on Vulcan was just too lonely, frustrating, aggravating, and frankly rage inspiring to do it alone. He must have been maturing, because he actually knew it.

Only T'Pring might not been precisely enough to handle all the stresses of being _the_ alien in the VSA because on the ninth month some Vulcan ass, with two other Vulcan asses, made Jim lose it.

x x x x

Sitting on a bench outside of the Satisfactory Tea Cafe, Jim was with great difficulty picking through a Vulcan book, PADD in hand, open to the Vulcan to Standard Dictionary.

A shadow appeared above him. "You have not mastered the Vulcan language in nine months on our planet," said a voice he recognized in Standard.

Not looking up, Jim said, "Nope, Nivan, I haven't."

"The human brain's capacity for language is far inferior," said another, unfamiliar voice.

"Sticks and stones," said Jim.

"How are sticks and stones related to the topic at hand?" said Nivan.

Training his eyes hard on his PADD, Jim said, "Look it up, genius."

"I wonder how much Vulcan he actually understands, Nivan?" said the unfamiliar voice.

There was a pause, and Jim turned his attention back to the book, determined not to let them rattle him.

Then in a smooth voice, Nivan said slowly in Vulcan, _"I imagine reading that book would be easier if T'Pring, your little whore, were here to play translator."_

White light flashed in Jim's eyes. Throuch clenched teeth he said, "I think you might want to take that back."

"Take it back?" said Nivan. "It is simply a matter of logical deduction. Surely she can get no intellectual stimulation from companionship with you; therefore, she must find you stimulating in some other way." Leaning down closer to Jim he said in Vulcan, _"Ergo, she is a whore."_

Reverently closing the book, Jim set it down on the bench next to him, along with the PADD. Then he stood up and punched Nivan in the jaw.

After that things were kind of a blur. So much for Vulcan pacifism. If JIm had thought that scrape he got into in the bar with Uhura was bad - well...3 Vulcan goons were a lot worse than 3 Starfleet goons. In what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, Jim was out cold.

But the blackness was not empty. He _felt _something...cold...appraising, flicker from his head down his spine and to the tips of his fingers and toes. He thought he heard, no maybe _felt_, the words, _no serious internal injuries_. And there was something else, a white hot desire for _vengeance_ that he got the feeling he wasn't supposed to see. He saw an image of his detractors buried in sand up to their necks, crows pecking at their eyes.

Then he was floating, his head pillowed somewhere soft.

Blinking his eyes open, he saw a familiar silhouette hovering upside down above him.

"It was illogical to attack them," said T'Pring. "You have never responded violently to goading before." She shook her head. "I do not understand -"

Realizing that the softness beneath his head was her lap, Jim bolted upright...and then mentally castigated himself for leaving that wonderful pillow behind. Not meeting her eyes, he said, "They called you a whore for hanging around me! I know enough Vulcan to understand that."

She was silent for a moment and then she said, "Vulcan males are three times as strong as you are, Mr. Kirk. Attacking one is foolhardy, attacking three..."

It was stupid. But did she have to rub it in? And for that matter...

"Do you have to keep calling me Mr. Kirk? We've known each other a few months now. Can you please call me by my first name?" he said turning to look at her.

Swallowing, she said, "Very well, James."

"Jim," he said.

She blinked. "But your name is James. Why would I call you Jim?"

He sighed. Damn silly, formal, literal, Vulcans. But, actually, James did sound nice when it came from her lips. Smiling wearily he said, "Okay, James."

He looked at her perfect pixie face. Beyond exciting new apps and gadgets, she was the best thing about this hot, barren, thin-aired planet. His odd, innocent, Vulcan girl-woman. He felt his jaw get tight. "No one, _no one_, should call you a whore."

She was the purest thing in the whole galaxy. He wasn't really thinking of her body, he was thinking of her mind. It seemed like she was practically the only Vulcan here who managed to see him as an equal - even if he got the impression she thought he was somewhat crazy. Once he'd asked her if she if she ever wanted to see go see the galaxy, and she'd replied, "No, I can see the galaxy very well on holovid without going anywhere. Risking space flight and _going_ to see it increases my odds of premature death by .3549% - if I were to indulge in commercial tourism. If I were to engage in the type of endeavor you will undertake in Starfleet, my odds would increase exponentially."

He almost smiled at the memory.

Snapping him from his reverie she said, "Vengeance is illogical." Her eyes went to one of his ears and then flicked briefly off into the distance. And there...he saw something, maybe it was the way her jaw hardened, but he remembered the vision of Nivan getting his eyes plucked out. A temper under there maybe?

"I know," he said. She wasn't angry _for _him, was she? No one liked him that much.

"But there is a 3D chess competition to be held at the Academy in three weeks' time," T'Pring said. "I know the three gentleman whose acquaintance you just made are entered, as I myself am."

A warp coil in Jim's brain fired brightly. "I was the Northern Hemisphere's 3D chess champion in 8th grade," he said. "Can I still enter the tournament?"

"Yes," said T'Pring.

Without thinking, Jim said, "I've got a set at my place. Want to come over and practice?"

Tilting her head, T'Pring said nothing, just stared off into the distance. Maybe he'd offended her? Last time she came over she'd showed up with her mom.

"I really mean it. We'll just practice chess," Jim said quickly not sure if he was reassuring her or _reminding _himself.

Blinking, T'Pring said, "What else would we do?"

"Errr..." said James.

x x x x

"Well," said James, "I guess this is goodbye."

They were standing facing each other outside the Satisfactory Tea cafe. It was his last night on Vulcan. He couldn't say he was sorry.

Well, there was one thing he'd kind of miss.

"Yes," said T'Pring. It was funny, if you just focused on the tone of her voice, and her blank expression you'd think she was as cold, haughty, and arrogant as the guys always on his back in the physics department. But she wasn't. She had a real heart. She and her Mom. Actually, her whole family was kind of nice - if you wrapped your head around the whole they weren't going to smile and _make nice_ thing. Jim had even played chess with her Dad and little sister. And hey, first father ever who didn't give him the evil eye...an expressionless stare was something of a step up for Jim.

He didn't want the evening to end just now. And he didn't even want to get into bed with her. Well, he did. But he didn't. Everything was just perfect as it was, and even though it didn't matter, even though he would never see her again, he didn't want to ruin it.

Swallowing, T'Pring said, "Or perhaps you could treat me to that coffee at your place. The cup you offered me when we first met. If caffeine prevents me from meditating tonight, so be it."

Running his hand nervously through his hair, Jim remembered that first awkward invitation. He knew by now that she meant precisely what she said, and only what she said. "I packed up all my coffee and my coffee maker already," he said a little sadly.

Taking a deep breath he said, "Would you like to just...walk?"

"Just walk?" said T'Pring slowly and Jim laughed. Silly, literal, genius Vulcan chicks.

"And talk, too," he said.

"That would be acceptable," said T'Pring.

x x x x

"And these will be your quarters, Captain Kirk," said the quartermaster.

Dropping his duffel, Jim stared around the rooms that would be his in San Francisco while the Enterprise was being repaired.

"Thank you," he said, but he was thinking, "This is all wrong." A few weeks ago he would have taken this as his due. But that was before Vulcan was destroyed. And before he'd been inside the head of Old Spock and seen his Other Self, and the man his Other Self was. Now he knew he wasn't ready. Not yet. Maybe never.

Because he knew, maybe better than Old Spock did, that this was a completely different universe. A different Jim, a different Spock and Uhura...and a different T'Pring. Or maybe T'Pring was the same; maybe her circumstances were just different. Old Spock had abandoned her but did not break the bond. When Old Spock went into Pon Farr she defended herself and the man she loved. In the end she hadn't held Old Spock any grudge. If anything, her last words to Old Spock when he came back for the kohlinar were kind, almost sympathetic.

Shaking his head, he rubbed his eyes. T'Pring wasn't on the survivor list. She was dead. Just like Gaila. For an instant the memory of Gaila's body, emerald green gone sallow in her coffin, flickered before his eyes.

From the sanitary cubicle the quartermaster said, "...and your sanitary cubicle has a bath as well as a sonic shower..." Jim wiped his face and when the guy looked at him for approval, Jim forced a tight smile.

As soon as the guy was gone, Jim bolted from the room and headed for the hangar. Old Spock would be there coordinating exploratory trips to the planet for the new Vulcan colony. Maybe he would know how he'd gotten promoted to _Enterprise_ captain a decade too early.

A few minutes later Jim was wading through a crowd of personnel and the exhaust of shuttles in the stadium-sized hangar. He'd forgotten it was shift change for the workers repairing the _Enterprise_ and ships from the Laurentian System at the station above. He was about to turn around and leave when he heard shouting from the far end of the building. Blinking as sunlight spilled in and the roar of engines filled the air, Jim looked up to see the roof retracting and a dark shadow begin its descent.

And then around him it started, a few voices that sounded like murmurs but were actually shouts.

"The last known ship..."

"To make it back..."

"...a mid-sized Vulcan freighter that picked up life pods..."

Jim's feet were carrying him forward before he knew what he was doing. A large crowd packed shoulder to shoulder around the spot where the freighter was landing, its hull black with phaser fire.

Dropping his head, he stopped. He was just deluding himself with his talk of no-win scenarios...he'd failed T'Pring, her family, Gaila, the fleet, and 6 billion others. He should leave.

There was a loud clang as the metal of the landing gear connected with the concrete floor. Jim lifted his head. He didn't move.

The freighter's engines hissed and went quiet and there was the soft whir of a gangplank lowering. The crowd which had been a chaotic buzz of chatter fell silent. And then the last survivors of Vulcan began filing out in two neat lines. Their faces were blank, expressionless, and unfamiliar.

Jim dropped his gaze down to the floor again. He shouldn't do this to himself.

He looked up just once more.

And there she was.

Diving through the crowd he felt his heart leap and his eyes sting. "T'Pring! T'Pring!" He shouted.

She stopped. Turned her head.

Onlookers began to give way, and he burst through the throng shouting, "T'Pring! T'Pring! I thought you were..."

But couldn't finish the rest, lest he make it true. Closing the last few meters between them, he forgot everything he knew about Vulcan mores and telepathy. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight. His vision was blurry with tears and he almost laughed.

Standing rigid in his embrace, she said, "James...My control is weak...I am...I cannot hold off telepathic contact..."

Something in the back of his mind niggled at him, but he was too happy to pay any attention. Taking her face in his hands and pulling back to meet her eyes he said, "I don't care, I don't care." He just had to touch her to know that she was real.

He had a sensation that he'd felt once before, like the floor beneath him was opening up, or like he'd stepped into a stream with a fast moving current and his feet had been swept out from under him.

...and he knew that she was confused by his tears. And he wanted to laugh again. After all the grief, all that had happened. Some things didn't change. Silly Vulcans. He would have said, "I'm just overjoyed to see you," but he knew that she understood.

"Fascinating," she said, as though they were talking about just any other peculiarity between their cultures and he did laugh.

He remembered every lonely, frustrating moment on Vulcan, how much she'd helped him, how beautiful she was...his clumsy invitations, how much he had wanted her. Still wanted her.

Feeling himself redden, he pulled away, his fingers dulling at loss of contact, his heart falling just a little.

"Sorry," he managed.

"It is alright, James," she said.

Still a little afraid to meet her eyes, he looked around. "Where are they taking you?"

Following his gaze, she said, "We were told that cots have been put in the Starfleet amphitheater for us."

"Your family," Jim said suddenly having a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Will they be with you?"

Swallowing, she looked down. For the first time he noticed that her hair was mussed, and her clothing was dirty and stained.

"I am alone," she said.

"No," said Jim, his jaw going tight.

She lifted her head, and he swallowed. What he'd taken for shadows on her cheeks were smudges of grime.

Shaking his head he said, "No, you can't stay there. I have officers' quarters now. Don't ask; it's a strange story. You'll stay with me."

Pulling her gently by the wrist ,he said, "Don't worry, I'll sleep on the couch."

x x x x

Jim hadn't finished putting the sheets on the couch when he heard the sonic shower stop. Nor had he found the shirt he had been intending to wear with his pajamas. Looking to his duffel and then to the couch, he decided he'd rather be putting a sheet on the couch when she emerged from the sonic shower.

In his robe.

The clothes on her back were all she'd brought with her from Vulcan. It made him burn in anger and frustration. At the same time it made him feel tender and protective of her.

If he looked at her in his robe...

He shouldn't have brought her here. But he couldn't leave her alone, among strangers on an alien world. She would have done the same for him.

_Focus, Jim, focus._ Trying to keep his eyes straight ahead as soft footfalls emerged from the sanitary cubicle, he spread a sheet over the couch.

Not trusting himself to say anything, he began resolutely tucking the sheet into the cushions.

From behind him, T'Pring said, "It is illogical for you to sleep on the couch when the bed will easily accommodate two."

Feeling himself flush with heat, he stopped. She didn't know what she was suggesting.

Running his hands nervously through his hair, he said, "T'Pring, I...if..." He closed his eyes. "If I share a bed with you, I won't be sleeping."

"James, please be direct," she said.

James. It did sound so good when it rolled off her tongue. He turned to look at her.

His robe made her look smaller than she actually was. More fragile - though he knew it was an illusion and she could probably snap his neck between her thighs.

...which wasn't something he should think about because it just turned him on more.

Her hair fell down her back in a neat curtain, the points of her ears just peeking through. The vee of his robe showed the beginnings of soft curves. He was speechless.

It wasn't _just_ lust when he went towards her and put his hands up to her temples. It was protectiveness as well. And affection. And a confusion of other things. And he needed to communicate that to her. But when he put his hands to her temples, stood so close he could smell her and see the shadow cast by his robe on her shoulders, felt her inhuman heat beneath his fingers, all he could think of were their bodies joined together, limbs entwined, warm and slick with each other's sweat.

He closed his eyes. It was wrong. She'd been through too much.

Dropping his hands, he felt his heart fall just a little again...was it his or hers?

He met her gaze and it was just as blank, haughty, serene, expressionless - all those words fit really - as it ever was.

And then he felt her hand on his. "Come," she said, quietly leading him to the bedroom. He felt that sensation again, felt their minds connect through their fingertips, and he knew that she just couldn't, shouldn't be alone. He was filling a space in her mind.

This was not a good idea. Not for him. Not for her. But the part of him that knew it was overwhelmed by the part of him that just wanted to be closer to her, that wanted to close the last few centimeters that was a vast ocean between them.

He was lost.

**A / N:**

So all the angst in Tapestry was too much and I needed a break...and then I wrote this. Well, the first part was really fun...

But I guess the good thing is, Vulcan has been destroyed and things can only get better for our hero and heroine. Well, I imagine there will be a few more bumps in the road...but more fun too!

If you read and enjoyed, please leave a review! It will help me keep going.


	3. Oblivion

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Special thanks to Beta Notes from the classroom. Check out her latest, "Survivors" in my faves.

**Oblivion**

In T'Pring's hand James' fingers brushed hers. She was inundated with waves of alien sensations. Lust. Something she would categorize as affection. Apprehension. Sorrow.

Overwhelmed by the confusing threads of his feelings, she paused, shut her eyes.

"Hey," he said, stepping around her, his hands leaving her fingers and sweeping stray tendrils of hair from her face. "T'Pring, you don't have to do this."

The pads of his fingers danced across the delicate telepathic receptors of her temples. Behind her closed eyes each touch lit a spark like a fire lizard in the sands of the desert outside of Shi'kahr. She would never see fire lizards again. Leaning her forehead into his chest, she willed him not to go, not to drop his hands.

She felt his chin drop to the top of her head. And for a moment he seemed to understand, his fingers did not leave her face and she wasn't alone in her mind - it wasn't as intense as a full meld, but still she could _feel_ him, and see images. It was like the loose connection of the family bond...as soon as she thought that her stomach fell and his. Dropping his arms and wrapping them around her he pulled her tightly to him.

The absence of his mind felt like being thrown from a cliff.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said.

Analytically, she knew it was what humans said to express sympathy. She didn't feel like arguing about how illogical it was.

"What can I do?" he said. "What can I do?"

Taking a deep breath, she shuddered. I need. I want. These were hard things for a Vulcan to say. But her body seemed to be capable of speaking. Without her will, her hand crept up his chest towards his face.

Pulling back, she stared at her rebellious fingers hovering in the air.

And then the most extraordinary thing happened.

James took her hand in his and pulled it towards his face, gently positioning her fingers in the meld formation. He knew what she wanted. She had no time to wonder over this.

She had never melded with his species. In approximately 27.35% of cases, a meld could result in injury to humans. But it was if she'd been on the edge of a precipice and had already fallen.

All their thoughts and feelings ran together, like chalk on a sidewalk in a rainstorm in Iowa, or the ingredients of plomeek soup steeping in a pot. And all those thoughts and feelings flowed inexorably down to that single horrible day.

Her family's last moments together. His hearing. Her sister being crushed before her eyes. Nero. Spock. T'Pring's parents coercing her aboard the pod. James destroying the drill and falling to Vulcan's disintegrating surface. Amanda's death. The freighter finding her pod - all the _strangers_. Jim on the ice-planet...and _another _Spock from another universe and another time. Jim's meld with this _other _Spock...another life for Jim and T'Pring...that other Spock's failure to prevent the destruction of Romulus...this universe's Spock's attempt to _murder _Jim_._..which Jim oddly did not begrudge...but T'Pring...

...and 6 billion deaths. 6 billion deaths! The result a grief-stricken, mad Romulan.

...Jim's failure. She saw his anguish. His despair. His memories of her family - feeling more at home on an alien world than on his own-she saw horrible glimpses of a lonely childhood. There were many women...and T'Pring...and another, an Orion - Gaila. He saw her lonely weeks aboard the freighter, not knowing what had happened. She saw his strange promotion to captain by Starfleet Intelligence and his confusion. His sense of inadequacy...

But all these images...and Jim's feelings, were tinged with green. The green of T'Pring's own rage.

One mad Romulan! One mad Romulan! The feeling flew from her to him and ignited them both. T'Pring dropped her hands and began to pound into his chest. She might have screamed.

Grabbing her hands, Jim said, "T'Pring, T'Pring!" Maybe he shouted.

But she couldn't stop herself. She kept struggling, kept trying to move her fists.

They were evenly matched physically, but Jim had more leverage and combat training on his side. He wrestled her to the bed and pinned her hands above her head. Gasping and writhing, T'Pring tried to dislodge him.

"It's okay," he murmured in her ear, even as his legs locked hers to the mattress and prevented her from pulling her heels up beneath her and arching her body to get him _off._ "It's okay, Baby, let it go."

It was not okay. The illogic of his statement - and her own lack of control, her own desire to lash out at him when nothing was really his fault, made her burn even more.

And then he did something that in that moment seemed infuriatingly stupid. He let go of her hands.

Reaching up with a cry, she drew her nails down his cheeks.

Not moving or crying out, he just closed his eyes and put his own fingers against her cheeks. She felt his pain, but also his acceptance...and something else, a sense of penance. For Vulcan. For Gaila. For T'Pring's family. For T'Pring herself. For failing all of them.

Blinking in shock, T'Pring took a deep breath and stared at James. In the trail of her nails, crimson was welling, cold and alien.

"It's okay, it's okay," he whispered, his forehead coming to rest against hers.

The rage was still in her, not vanquished, just suppressed beneath her shame at lashing out at him. She needed to apologize but couldn't make her mouth move, so she brought her fingers again to his temples.

_I am sorry _she willed her mind to say.

He shook his head, eyes wide and nearly violet in the low light of the bedroom. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he said aloud.

And then T'Pring saw herself, from the outside, through his eyes. Small, hot to the touch, breathing heavy beneath him, his robe falling off her shoulders, her front completely exposed to him.

Warmth radiated from his center. And hers. He wanted her. And she wanted him...or maybe she was just overwhelmed by his want?

The soft cloth of his sleeping trousers was the only thing between them. The effort to remove that last barrier seemed tremendous - but would be infinitesimal.

As that thought rolled through her mind, James' breath hitched.

"T'Pring," he whispered, and she could feel the effort it took him, "we are both shell shocked. We're both likely -" He pressed his lips to the bridge of her nose and leaned his forehead back against hers, his bare chest dropping to her own. "-to do stupid things." He did not move his body, and T'Pring felt the pull she had over him. He wasn't thinking much, he was just overwhelmed by sensations. She caught pieces of thoughts. _So good. Bad idea. Can't move. So _hot.

She did not want to move either. It was so much easier to lie here and dwell in sensation. Not to move, not to think. To bask in the heavy air that seemed to have settled over them. To let this _thing_ that was overtaking them drown out all other thoughts.

It _would _overtake them, unless _she_ did something. Pulled away.

A fractured thought came from James, _God, help me...can't believe I'm going to say this. _

Swallowing, he said, "We should think about this." Pulling away from her he mumbled, "Shell shock..."

And the link fell away as he pulled himself up.

T'Pring saw green again. Whether because of Nero, or Jim pulling away, or that it was _him_ ending this illogic instead of her, she wasn't sure.

Swinging a leg up around his hips, she pulled him down and took his face in her hands again.

He was furious. _ Dammit, T'Pring. _But his anger was better than being alone in her mind and despite it he began pressing his lips to her eyebrows, her cheeks and then her lips. Feeling an unfamiliar hardness pressed against her thigh, she shifted slightly. Sparks of a chemical electric cascade shot through him and directly down her finger tips.

Something very base and deep within her responded. Something she was sure was older than her species, and definitely older than telepathy. It wasn't like the rage she'd felt, still felt, but it felt akin to it. It was alive and limitless. It was action, and it was something she could do, or be, and she didn't have to think.

Exhaling hard, James pressed his lips to hers. Taking his lips gently between her teeth, she found his hands and brought them to her face. With the light link in place, she reached down with her hands and pulled his trousers down over his hips.

As the cold air hit him, the chemical electrical cascade overwhelmed her mind, and he gasped. Or maybe it was her.

x x x x

Nyota Uhura was just pouring herself a cup of tea when her buzzer sounded. Startled, she spilled a bit of hot water on her finger. Sliding over to the sink to run cool water over the burn, she gave an aggravated huff and looked at the chronometer. It was 07:03.

Maybe it was Spock? She wanted to be there for him, but since he decided that it was his duty to help his people rebuild his race, it was difficult. She'd felt the need to sleep alone last night...but maybe.

Shaking the water off her hands, she went to the door and pressed the accept button.

It slid open to reveal one very bedraggled James T. Kirk. In addition to mussed hair and an unshaven face, he had scratch marks down his face. "Uhura," he said, running his hands through his hair. "Great. You're here."

Feeling a scowl of annoyance, she said, "What do you want?"

"I, uh, need to borrow some clothes. A friend spent the night and her clothes got ripped in the fresher," he said, shifting his weight as though he was preparing to zip right by her.

She'd thought he'd changed since Delta Vega and the mind meld with the other Spock. When he came back to the Enterprise after that little episode she'd sensed it. He was less cocky. More bearable.

But here he was, still a classless whore. Sliding to block him she said, "So, let me get this straight. You bang someone, things get a little crazy, and you come over to my place to borrow some clothes?" She eyed his cheek pointedly.

Reddening, Jim scowled and said, "Don't be crass." Running his hands through his hair he said, "She's Vulcan, a friend...she came in on the last freighter and I...errr...offered her my couch."

Nyota's jaw fell. "Offered her your couch?"

Looking down and stuffing his hands in his pockets, Jim said, "Yeah."

She tilted her head. Actually, he was being surprisingly humble, not like the cocky boy-man who'd hit on her when she'd caught him in her room - presumably interrupted in the process of having sex with her roommate. But that still didn't explain some things. Narrowing her eyes she said, "And her clothes."

Meeting her eyes and stepping forward, Jim said, "Clothes aren't meant to be lived in for a two weeks straight."

His voice was angry and genuine. Nyota took a step back and then caught herself. "The scratch on your cheek?"

Rubbing his cheek he said, "Uh, yeah, she's a little upset about everyone in her family dying. I kind of became her punching bag-errr, scratching post."

"Did you insult her mother too?" asked Nyota.

"No!" said Jim, eyes flashing at her. "And you know I only did that to save Earth. I'm not that big of an ass."

Nyota blinked. Did he just call himself an ass? "No, I guess not," she said stepping aside.

Not waiting for an invitation, he walked right past her and towards the bedroom. "Spock's not here, right?"

"No," she called after him as he ducked around the corner.

"Good. Yeah, sorry, about this," he called from her room. "T'Pring just doesn't want to be alone, and I have to report to Pike in an hour. You know she wants to be useful, and so I suggested - Jesus, your closet is organized."

There was something about the name, T'Pring, that rang a bell. Nyota turned the corner to find Jim standing in front of the open door of her closet looking perplexed. Her closet was very organized. By clothing type and by color.

"Light or dark-skinned Vulcan?" she asked.

"Light-skinned, dark hair, dark eyes," said Jim. "She's a doctor of xenomedicine. I figure she can help Bones out while I'm at work."

Picking out a long, modest, greenish-brown dress and handing it to him, Nyota said, "Come on, let's go take care of your cheek."

"Thanks," said Jim, obediently following her into her sanitary cubicle.

As she opened her first aid kit he blinked. "Hey, you've got light and dark dermoplasters. Are those the kind that work in an hour?"

"Forty five minutes," said Nyota, not bothering to comment on the first half of the statement. He was the genius; he could figure it out.

The rapid dermaplasters had just come on the market last year and they'd saved her on numerous occasions. Vulcans had distinct needs when it came to sex. They had an "obsessive compulsive marking behavior" as Spock called it. Which meant he liked - no needed-to bite, to mark and be marked.

Putting a dermaplaster that was a little too pale on Jim's cheek, she raised an eyebrow. She still wasn't entirely convinced of Jim's innocence. "Beside the scratch, anything else? Did she bite you, too?" she said hoping it sounded teasing and not probing.

Scowling and rubbing the dermaplaster on his cheek, Jim said, "Why would she bite me? This was just an accident, Uhura." Shaking his head in obvious annoyance, he left the sanitary cubicle.

Blinking, Nyota followed him. Maybe he had slept on the couch? Or the "she" in question wasn't Vulcan - although, Nyota didn't feel like Jim was lying. Granted, Spock had sex with other women without the marking behavior, but he was _half_-Vulcan. A full Vulcan-she blinked again as they approached the entrance. A full Vulcan wouldn't engage in unbonded sex to begin with.

Turning quickly at the door, Jim held up the dress. "Thanks for this, Uhura. I really appreciate it."

Nyota nodded.

Scratching behind an ear, he said, "You're the only woman in the officers' quarters I know -"

Crossing her arms, Nyota said, "That you haven't slept with?"

Jim smiled his trademark obnoxious frat boy grin. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Get out of here," she said.

"Yep," said Jim, turning to hit the button.

The door slid open - and there stood Spock.

"Oh, hey, there," said Jim smacking him on the shoulder. "I err...think I have someone you know staying with me. Gotta go. Thanks, Uhura."

Nyota was pretty sure Spock didn't hear. His eyes were trained on her.

She sighed at "the look." Vulcans were terribly territorial. She was going to have a lovely time explaining this episode. Even though Spock would no doubt assume her innocence, he wouldn't trust Jim's intentions.

She shook her head. Jim Kirk and a Vulcan. He must have slept on the couch.

x x x x

The San Francisco fog was so dense T'Pring could not see the officer's quarters even though her Vulcan mind, with its precision for distance and time, registered it as being no more than 30 meters away.

She'd been on Earth 6 days, 17 hours and 6 minutes. She had adapted to the lighter gravity and no longer had the occasional odd sensation of floating. She'd adjusted to the higher oxygen content, it did not make her feel at all inebriated anymore. She was _mostly _accustomed to the crowds of complete strangers milling around her, their faces dramatic displays of feeling. But she could not get used to the fog. It permeated everything and left everything, even the human civilian medical uniform she now wore, permanently damp and cold.

Walking so fast she was almost at a jog, she plunged forward into the cloud. The doors of her destination seemed to materialize before her. It was as if the universe only stretched as far as she could see. As though beyond her line of vision there weren't the 8,596 refugees - 2,396 of them physically injured, all of them mentally scarred.

It was as though she hadn't spent the last ten hours consciously rebuilding her shields as the suffering of her fellow telepaths invaded her mind. Usually only touch telepaths, in times of intense stress Vulcans projected. Normally, these projections would be too weak for a psi-null person to sense, but even T'Pring's human colleagues seemed affected.

And in the dense blanket of fog, it was if after 6 days, 16 hours and 7 minutes on this planet she hadn't run into Spock.

Forcing the suffering of her fellow refugees, their haunting projections, and Spock from her mind, she approached the doors. Pulling her visitor's access pass from the bag slung over her shoulder, she waited. There was a soft beep and she swept in. Not bothering with the lift, she took the stairs up three flights to James' unit. Holding up her pass again, she entered and walked straight to the bedroom.

He wasn't there. She went to the sanitary cubicle. Empty.

It was 19:15. His comm message said he'd be here. From the front of the unit she heard the door slide open. Turning quickly she left the cubicle.

Jim was taking off his dress jacket in the hallway. Nodding at her, unsmiling he said, "Sorry, Admiral Komack -"

T'Pring cut him off, gently taking his bottom lip between her teeth, and helping him with his jacket. As soon as his arms were free they were around her and her hands flew to his face. He was aroused - and angry. Not at her. She was angry too. But not at him.

She pushed her body more tightly against his. His response hit her from below as he pushed his hips into hers, and from above as the neuro-cascade of his sensations delivered her from any further thoughts.

x x x x

Later they reclined together on the couch, James beneath her, a throw over their bare entwined legs. So much physical contact didn't seem strictly necessary to T'Pring, but James never let her go after their couplings. Since it facilitated a mental link between them, she didn't protest.

Now her head was on his chest. He was still wearing his black Starfleet undershirt. She, too, still wore her top garment, though hers was open.

"You are not talking," she said. They often talked, or melded in these times. She'd seen his meeting with his mother a few days after her arrival through his mind. Mrs. Kirk had showed up at the designated meeting place already intoxicated at 11 a.m. James had been furious, and hurt.

He'd seen the young Vulcan women who had volunteered to be bonded to the Vulcan men who slipped into Pon Farr. Only the value of her medical knowledge saved her from a similar fate. For now anyway.

James ran a hand across her hair. "I didn't want to bore you with my tales of battling bureaucracy."

"Admiral Komack is still resisting getting bulb covers for the lights aboard the Enterprise?" T'Pring said.

James huffed. "Well, you know, since my assignment as captain is only a PR stunt, why bother? Save the resources for the _real_ ships."

T'Pring had already told him of the rumors that it was T'Pau who pushed for his captaincy, and of mental glimpses she'd caught from an injured Vulcan Defense Force member of a time capsule recovered that mentioned his name. It was human to repeat herself but he was human, so she said, "I don't think your assignment will be strictly ceremonial."

He touched her temple and she felt his gratitude but he spoke anyway, "Thanks."

They lay there in silence for 12.3 minutes, and James was slipping into a light doze, when T'Pring started to feel it. The fading of what James called, "the afterglow." Thoughts began to pull at the edges of consciousness. She shifted her body.

"What is it?" James said drowsily. "Hungry?"

"Yes," she said. It was true.

"That's not it," he said stroking her hair from her temple. "Tell me."

She was silent for a minute and thirteen seconds, and then said, "I saw Spock today."

Through the fingers at her temple she caught something, a flicker of something...jealousy maybe? It was odd, because he would talk about Gaila to T'Pring. T'Pring had always believed that Vulcans were more territorial than humans but it evoked no jealousy or possessiveness in her.

Jim quickly pulled his hand away. "Oh. I'm sure he was glad to see you."

"No, I do not think so," said T'Pring. "It took him six days to contact me." And his last words were 'live long and prosper.' He did not expect to see her again for some time.

Sighing, Jim said, "T'Pring, if he didn't want to see you, you wouldn't have seen him at all."

T'Pring sat up and looked at James. "Your logic is sound."

Taking a deep breath he said, "Whatever happened between you in this timeline couldn't have been worse than what happened in the other timeline."

T'Pring took a breath. She knew about her other self calling for the _kal-if-fee_. But...she looked down at the floor.

"I was inadequate," she said. "I did not meet his needs. I still do not understand." She had tried, and failed.

James licked his lips. "You know...I'm not an expert on this Spock. But...he is half human. I can see, that for a human boy, to be bonded at seven, and told that was the only woman he'd ever be getting...well...he might have an awful lot of resentment."

It was true. Spock had resented her greatly. Tilting her head, T'Pring said, "I have heard arranged marriages between children happened historically among humans."

"Yeah," said James, "hundreds of years ago, often among royalty. But I can tell you, most of the guys probably had mistresses on the side." He sighed. "Monogamy happens with humans. I don't know the numbers, but a lot of us wait until marriage before having sex. Still, a lot of us seem more cut out to be serial monogamists."

T'Pring looked at him. She'd caught glimpses of things through his mind. Serial monogamy wouldn't be a strictly accurate description of his life style.

Guessing her train of thought he said, "...or something."

Settling back down into his arms, she said. "He had less feelings of...affection...for me than you do." And something else was missing, a feeling she sometimes caught as a shadow flickering between her parents. Something lovely, expansive, dark and possessive. She couldn't explain it to Jim, so she didn't try, but she added. "I did try, one time, to engage in sexual congress with him before our formal marriage. But I was unable to. Yet here I am. It is very strange."

James said nothing. He just kissed the top of her head and gently stroked her shoulder.

They did couple again later that night, but for the first time since that first night, James hesitated. "Are you sure this is the right thing to do, T'Pring?" Which of course made her furious. And that fueled his arousal - he said he was developing a Pavlovian response to her rage. And his arousal added fire to hers.

Afterwards she was so relaxed, so at peace, that she managed to meditate for two hours and thirteen minutes, her longest spell since the destruction of her homeworld.

Some of her patients had remarked on her calm, her self-control. She knew it was due to her time with James. No matter how deviant her behavior, her system for dealing with grief, it seemed to be working.

And then the next day James had to go and change everything.

**A/N:**

Errr...this story won't all be depressing. I put the Nyota part in there to give it a little levity, also, I thought through her eyes it might be easier to see things even Jim and T'Pring might miss. I'm a little afraid the next chapter might wander into M territory...so Story Alert it if you don't peek there often.

Reviews are love, and the only way Notes and I get paid. If you liked this, please let me know. It does help me keep going.


	4. Uncharted Territory

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Special thanks to my beta, Notes from the Classroom. Check out her latest, "The Survivors" in my faves.

And thanks to everyone who reviews!

**Uncharted Territory**

Jim stared out the window at the dreary gray San Francisco fog. In the background he heard the sonic shower start to hum. It was the morning after T'Pring's encounter with Spock and he was done. Done with grieving for Gaila, done with feeling guilty - for feeling that Gaila might have gone to her death thinking he'd deliberately betrayed her. He was done with second guessing what he might have done, what his other self might have done, to save Vulcan. And he was done with being unhappy.

He wasn't done with being angry at Starfleet's bureaucracy, but he was going to deal with it - because he had to. Some of the brass might think Jim was only a pretty boy PR stunt but he was going to prove them wrong. They might think he would only be doing milk runs for the rest of his career, but he was James Tiberius Kirk, born in a lightning storm. Sooner or later, trouble would find him. And he'd be ready for it.

He was also done with making T'Pring unhappy, or at least not making her happier.

If someone had told him that he could spend a week madly fucking a gorgeous woman into cathartic oblivion he would have said when can I sign up? But...

But T'Pring wasn't just anyone. He really liked her. Or really liked who she used to be. The sweet innocent T'Pring who was quirky and liked physics and found exploring cultural differences "very satisfying." He didn't like _just_ fucking her - and fucking, the crudest description of the deed, was the only way he could describe it. There was no playfulness, no teasing, no happy explorations. She ran a hand over his forehead and they seemed to fall into this crazy lust loop that had one goal only - release. And it worked. And the telepathy thing...well, it made it some of the best sex of his life...and the worst at the same time.

Maybe it was doing the job, maybe it was helping T'Pring cope, but it just felt wrong. He couldn't give her forever, he wasn't her type, he would spend most of his life in space - and that was a life she had no aspirations for. And let's face it, even if she wanted to wait for him, he probably wasn't going to be faithful. He'd promised himself that like his other self, he wasn't going to get involved with any member of his crew...and that was going to be hard enough. Turning down every offer during shore leave...well...

If he couldn't give her forever, couldn't he give her right now? She'd just lost her home and her family, but couldn't he give her something to remember, that if not happiness, was at least more than oblivion?

The sonic shower stopped humming and Jim's comm blinked. Picking it up he pressed a button and saw a message from Bones.

_Make sure your "friend" doesn't come to work today. _

Jim scowled a little. When Bones had asked T'Pring how she knew Jim, T'Pring had responded, "We are friends." It shouldn't have, but it actually stung a little bit. Jim knew there wasn't a concept in her culture for what they were - and hell, he wasn't even sure what they were, but friends didn't seem quite adequate.

Shaking himself, he read the rest.

_She needs a day off. My hover is in the usual place. You're welcome._

Jim blinked. And then he smiled. Today just happened to be his day off, too.

x x x x

Shifting the backpack on his shoulder, Jim waved his other hand over the sensor in front of the off grounds hover storage unit. There was a soft beep. Stepping forward, Jim grabbed the surprisingly low tech handle of the garage door.

As he lifted it up, T'Pring said, "May I ask now where we are going?"

He cast a glance back at her. She stood in the mist, wearing Uhura's dress and one of his coats, her hands thrust in its pockets.

Smiling, he said, "Some place warm and sunny."

Taking her arm, he helped her into the passenger seat of the hover. He was feeling like going all out today.

"Will it be dry?" T'Pring asked, looking out at the fog.

Smiling, Jim said, "No, but there won't be any fog."

"What will we do?" T'Pring asked.

Licking his lips, Jim raised his eyebrows. "We are going surfing down in Santa Cruz."

Pulling her safety harness on, T'Pring said, "Why would we go all the way to Santa Cruz to peruse the subspace nets, James?"

Grinning, Jim took her hand and letting his fingers slide against hers, he said, "Surfing. In water." Let that throw her for a loop.

"Why would we peruse the net in water?" T'Pring said, her confusion prickling his fingers.

Jim laughed, and T'Pring looked down at her hand.

"My T'Pring," he said. "The ultimate straight man!"

Jim swore he heard a slight hum. The gears in her brain must have been turning extra hard with that one.

"That," she said slowly, "is a figure of speech."

"You're so logical," he said, kissing her forehead. Something sparked in his fingers. A bit of brightness that reminded him of long conversations in the Satisfactory Tea Cafe. She looked over at him and he smiled. Releasing her fingers quickly, he threw his bag in the back. And hoped she didn't see his sudden compulsion to have sex in the back of the hover.

Focused. He had to stay focused.

x x x x

"No, really," said Jim, "you're going to like - find it fascinating."

T'Pring was standing stock still in the surf shop, staring at a board hanging on the wall.

Jim saw men and women around the shop staring at her. He heard someone whisper, "Hey, is that a...?"

And someone else whisper, "Shhhhhh..."

Shifting the wetsuits he was holding to one arm he said, "Think of it as active meditation."

T'Pring's eyes shot to him. "Active meditation?"

"Yes. Look, we're going to get some wetsuits and some boards, and we're going to go out and wait in the water for the waves. We're not taking our comms, and the water is choppy enough today we can't take our worries - we have to focus on staying afloat."

Eyeing the wetsuits she said, "The water must be cold - even for a human."

"Yep," said Jim. "Don't worry. I got you a full body one."

He pushed a bikini and the wetsuit into her arms. She stared at them.

"T'Pring," he said. "Look at me."

She raised her eyes.

"You're going to forget everything," he said.

"Everything?" she said.

From behind Jim, a man said, "Totally. It's like a spiritual experience."

Jim turned his head and saw a store employee, maybe a year younger than him. The guy had long hair so blonde it was almost white, his tanned skin made Jim's look unhealthy and pale, and his chiseled features looked like they'd never been on the receiving end of an angry fist - human or other.

Giving him a tight smile, Jim turned back to T'Pring.

"I will try it," she said, looking between the two of them.

"Great," said Jim, ushering her away from the California golden boy and into a changing booth.

Just as he was about to step into his own, "Hey," said the guy. "You look a lot like Jim Kirk."

"Um, yeah," said Jim. "Funny, right?"

"No, you really look like him."

"Right," said Jim. He ducked into the changing room. He blamed that little interlude on the fact that T'Pring got her suit on first and what happened next.

"This fastening device appears to be defective," said T'Pring.

"Oh, yeah," said Golden Boy so slowly Jim was convinced he was high. "Those zippers get stuck. I'll help you."

Without zipping up the chest of his own suit, Jim slid out from behind the curtain and just managed to cut Golden Boy off. Hey, maybe he wasn't going to spend the rest of his life with T'Pring, but she was his girl now, and he wasn't sharing.

"Got it," he said, uncatching the zipper from the fabric. Looking at Golden Retriever Boy, he tried to sound sincere when he said, "Vulcans are touch telepaths. Sometimes when strangers touch them they throw up."

T'Pring looked at Golden Boy, and then looked at Jim.

"It has been known to happen," she said. "But usually a secondary factor must happen concurrently. Perhaps a side effect to medication, or -"

"Here's my credit chip," said Jim.

"Hey, you are Jim Kirk!" said Golden Boy. "I thought I was just stoned."

"He was stoned?" whispered T'Pring. "That is barbaric. Although, he seems to have recovered quite well."

Coughing back a laugh, Jim brushed her hand accidentally.

Looking down at where their hands had touched, T'Pring said, "Fascinating."

x x x x

For a first timer, T'Pring did really well on the waves. After the first time she managed to stand up and not fall immediately back down, Jim said, "It's like flying, right?"

Tilting her head and pulling herself back up onto her board, she said, "Like a dream of flying."

He smiled. He knew that Vulcans didn't dream, so she must have picked that out of his mind - or maybe Spock's. He didn't really care, he was just glad that she was hooked, and he knew that she was enjoying herself.

Not that she said that she was enjoying herself.

But when the sun started to drop lower in the sky and Jim suggested they call it a day, she said, "The sun will not set for 33 more minutes."

She was sitting astride her board, her body silhouetted against the sky, rising and falling as the ocean rolled beneath her. The tips of her ears peeking from beneath the long tendrils of her wet hair were the only thing giving away her heritage.

It was an image he was pretty sure would stay etched in his brain forever. He didn't want to kill the moment, but he said, "T'Pring, at dusk, the sharks come out to feed."

Turning to him she opened her mouth, but Jim cut her off. "Their diet consists of iron and _copper_ blooded organisms."

She blinked.

Tapping his head he said, "I know how my Vulcan's mind works."

She stared at him a moment before lying down on her board and paddling toward the shore.

x x x x

"You were right," said T'Pring, staring out at the darkening water, as they slid into the hover. "I thought of nothing."

"Yep," said Jim. He looked up at the bubble gum red sun slipping down the horizon and blinked. It called to mind something else and now his brain _was_ thinking. "T'Pring, what the fuck is red matter?"

After he cleared up the whole, "the expletive was just for emphasis, and no, I don't actually think that it is an organism that reproduces sexually - although the possibility is _fascinating_" thing, they had a really decent conversation on how the potential for universe-hopping time travel didn't actually negate Jim's Godel interpretation.

And they even got to eat outside Jim's home. Jim never thought he'd say it, but it was nice to have a break from cold take-out between bouts of frenzied sex.

But by the time they got back to Jim's apartment, he could see the cloud beginning to settle again. And sure enough, as soon as she slipped off her shoes, T'Pring was coming towards him, her hands up. It actually turned him on just looking at her do that - he was well trained, but he caught her wrists in the air.

"You're thinking about all the other Vulcans who didn't get to go surfing, who don't have a place to stay, who don't have someone..." He almost said _to fuck them into oblivion_ but didn't. "...who don't have someone who cares about them."

Looking down, T'Pring said, "You are correct. How -"

The benefits of command track training. Kissing her forehead, Jim said, "It's pretty basic human psychology. And evidently Vulcan, too."

"But it is...not right -"

"Whoa," said Jim, sliding his hands up so their fingers touched. He felt his stomach sink with her despair and that old familiar flare of anger. It was like all Vulcan emotions just turned to rage. He had to cut it off at the pass.

"Be logical about this, T'Pring. You are one of the few Vulcan doctors, you are caring for your people. You need to take a break to keep going." And then to keep it light, as much for himself as for her, he added in his best imitation of a Holowood Zen master, "And now young surfing master, you can teach more Vulcans to surf and bring peace to many." He did a pretty good job actually;, he almost laughed at himself. There was a flicker in his fingertips.

"And don't worry about the resources," he added. "I'm sure there is some surfing society that would feel great about sponsoring some Vulcans."

"Most Vulcans cannot swim," said T'Pring. "However, for the ones that can -" Meeting his eyes, she said, "Your logic is sound...and yet...you were starting to laugh."

"I am very serious," he said, and grinned. "Well, about what I said. It was just the way I said it that was..." he shrugged. "...entertaining."

"When you laugh, or find something...humorous, and we are connected, I experience the most fascinating serotonin response." Flexing her fingers against his she said, "Why did you laugh when I commented on the young man at the surf shop's stoning?"

Jim repressed a very unmanly snicker. "Stoned is another word for intoxicated."

Before Jim could stop her, she slipped her hands to his face, but he did not feel the burn of rage. Just curiosity. "So when we left and I suggested he visit the Starfleet Hospital head trauma unit for correction of any long term brain injuries-"

Jim had to contain a snort. "That," he grinned, "was my second best memory of the day."

T'Pring looked at him, face as blank and unreadable as ever, but she was humming softly. "What, was your first favorite memory of the day?" she asked.

Suddenly getting serious and very warm, Jim said. "When you were sitting astride your surfboard at sunset, rolling with the waves. The sunlight shining orange all around you."

"That is not funny," she said-oddly seeming to hum, even as she spoke. "And yet...I feel the serotonin cascade I felt earlier still in effect."

"Mmmm..." said Jim, half hearing her. "And I thought of you," he kissed her neck, "astride me as my hips rolled beneath you." He kissed her neck again, sucking a little, and ending with a small nip. T'Pring's hum increased in volume. Taking her hand and pressing it to his meld points, he said, "I bet you're salty all over," making sure she saw in her mind exactly what he was thinking about.

T'Pring's fingers flew from his temple. "That does not seem necessary or efficient."

Feeling very mischievous, he slipped his hands against hers and said, "It is _necessary_. And just try and stop me."

"You do not really want me to stop you," she said, the hum increasing, and comprehension and something else Jim couldn't identify flickering in his fingers . "You are not laughing, but the sensation is the same -"

He reached forward and nipped at her lip the way she always nipped at his. He didn't think she could kiss like a human. The hum continued. Dropping his hands from hers, he found the back of her dress and felt her fingers flick back to his face.

x x x x

Morning light was just filtering in the windows, and Jim could hear the trash collector truck outside running its sorting routine. Pulling his command gold over his head, he leaned down and kissed a sleeping T'Pring on the forehead, lingering to take in her inhuman warmth. After their bout of definitely-not-angry-sex the night before, she'd wandered out to meditate and then had slipped back into bed with him.

Even though his muscles were aching with a day of surfing - and other things, he was feeling relaxed, and at peace with the world.

He was putting on his shoes by the door when T'Pring emerged from the bedroom wearing only his robe. Stepping up to him she said, "It is 1 hour and 32 minutes before your usual departure."

Finishing his second shoe he stood up and said, "Early shuttle up to the _Enterprise_."

Tilting her head, she said, "James, it has come to my attention that you require much less sleep than I was taught humans require. On average only 4.5 hours."

Ah, the beauty of ADHD. Smiling, he stepped closer to her. "I have a hyperactive brain."

She looked at him a moment, and then he felt one hand slide into his. "I had not realized it was your brain that was hyperactive."

Jim blinked.

He felt something like disappointment that he knew by now wasn't his own.

T'Pring looked pointedly downwards.

Jim's mouth dropped. "T'Pring, you just told a joke!"

"It was not amusing to you."

Jim laughed and T'Pring started to hum again. "No, no, it was funny, I was just shocked."

Stepping closer, he pressed his fingers tighter against hers, and held up his other hand. She placed her palm to his.

"You don't think telling a joke is illogical?" Jim teased.

"I am merely following the customs of my host planet," T'Pring said and Jim could feel a bit of anticipation in his fingers.

Jim chuckled, and heard her hum increase. A Vulcan laugh? Bones was right, Jim was a bad influence on _everyone_. Feeling in an even better mood, he whispered. "Was that why you endured the less than necessary definitely not efficient activities last night?"

T'Pring hummed - or Vulcan laughed, or whatever it was, a little more.

"I don't have time for any of that now, but how about a Vulcan kiss?" Jim said nuzzling her ear and pushing against palms.

T'Pring didn't respond, but the humming didn't stop. Jim had learned Vulcan fingers really weren't erogenous zones per se, but they were receptive to erotic stimulation, if the humanoid they were touching was so focused.

Jim intended to _focus_. "When I come home tonight," he whispered, flexing his fingers on hers, "maybe we'll have a repeat of last night's performance." He tilted his head into hers. He was running late. He really didn't have the time to explain in detail all the things he would do to her. He needed something that was, as T'Pring would say, "more efficient."

Licking his lips he said, "Or maybe, if I'm feeling very primal, I may just come home, throw you over a chair and take you. Stake my claim and mark my territory."

T'Pring's head fell to the corner of Jim's neck and shoulder. The edges of his vision went black, and the hum became almost a low purr. "Will you bite me then, James?"

Jim had been around enough to know exactly what to say when a girl said something like that. "How hard, T'Pring?" he whispered.

"Until I bleed," she said.

Feeling much more turned on than he expected, Jim said, "I will bite until my teeth marks are etched in green."

And then everything went black for a second. Jim had a sensation almost like climax that radiated from his shoulder. He blinked and gasped, T'Pring's fingers went to his face, and it was like a meld...but different this time.

He blinked again and stared up to see his own eyes. They were startlingly blue. His hair was bright. And he had this feeling of...happiness, and optimism, and hope.

Despite everything...he blinked again as his very unhappy childhood flashed before his eyes. So many women, _too_ many, but wait, did he think that or...but that was before, and it was alright, would be alright. And there was Nero, Gaila's corpse, his six days of oblivion, and then _happiness_.

And then he was himself again, on Vulcan, playing chess with T'Pring's Dad. And he was so comfortable, and so happy. And T'Pring was there...but it wasn't Vulcan...there was a darkness surrounding them, closing in on them both, but it _wasn't_ sinister. It was warmth, belonging, and connection. Things that Jim had looked in on and wanted, but never really expected to have.

_This could be always be._

Forever. And part of him wanted to stay...but...something else pulled. Duty. That was it, wasn't it?

T'Pring in the meld-dream came over, took his hand. _There is no time here. Stay._

The darkness that was warmth and alive and welcoming was getting closer and suddenly he was afraid; he couldn't even say of what.

He tried to pull back and found he couldn't. "I have an early shuttle to catch," he stammered. He had places to go, people to see.

The dream T'Pring blinked. Raised her hand. _Forgive me_.

Jim stepped back in the dream...and found he'd stepped back in the real world as well. All the warmth and _belonging _gone. T'Pring's hand was suspended in the air between them.

He shivered and T'Pring said, "James, forgive me."

Shaken a bit, but not exactly sure why, he leaned forward and chastely kissed her cheek. "There is nothing to forgive. I'll see you tonight."

"James," said T'Pring.

Hitting the door open he said, "I'm late. Promised I'd meet Uhura."

As the door slid open, someone walked by in the hallway. T'Pring drew back but said, "James-" and held out her hand.

"I miss you already," he said, surprised how much he did. "But I have to go." Nodding, he left, almost breaking into a run as he went down the hall.

**A/N:**

To those who wanted M, I'm sorry. Also, this meandered a bit, but it is hard to show happy. I'm not sure if what happened in the last part is clear, but I didn't want it to be too clear because this is Jim's POV and I don't think he has any idea what really happened. It will be clear when I return to T'Pring's POV.

If you're reading this, please _review! _It really is what keep fanfiction authors going.


	5. The Burning Man

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Special thanks to Notes from the Classroom. Check out her latest, "The Survivors" in my faves.

And thanks to everyone who reviews! It is so nice to know that you are out there reading this. Even just a word or two is nice.

**The Burning Man**

The buzzer sounded and Nyota picked up her comm. Actually, he wasn't late. She pressed the button. Jim stood there, perfectly formal, and said in his most captainly voice, "Good morning, Lieutenant."

Nyota couldn't respond. Her eyes were glued to the large red ovoid mark between his neck and his shoulder.

"Oh, crap," said Jim, falling out of captainly mode. Rubbing his chin he said, "Did I miss a spot shaving?"

Down the hall, Nyota heard Scotty. "Oh, good morning, Captain, Lieutenant. Fancy some company on the way to the shuttle?"

Yanking Jim in her door, Nyota peeked out and said, "He cut himself shaving - I'm going to patch him up!"

"Hey!" protested Jim.

Nyota hit the door button.

"Uhura, I could write you up for assaulting a superior officer!" said Jim as the door whizzed closed.

Nyota just stared at him.

"If I was so inclined," Jim said weakly.

Did he honestly not know? Actually...Her mind spun. There were a number of scenarios in which he might _not_. Or was he showing it as some sort of boast? It was Jim Kirk. Narrowing her eyes, she said, "Have a nice night, _Captain?_"

A big happy boyish smile slid across his face. Then he blinked and coughed into his hand. "I don't see how that question is appropriate."

Putting a hand on her forehead, she took a deep breath. "Spock said it was highly improbable that you and T'Pring..." Closing her eyes and shaking the hand from her forehead she said, "Please tell me you and T'Pring didn't..."

Swallowing audibly, Jim said, "Umm...a gentleman tells no tales? Come on, Uhura, I'm trying to be mature here."

She blinked. Well, that wasn't the Jim Kirk she knew. Sighing again she said, "But the bite mark on your neck speaks volumes. Into the sanitary cubicle, Captain."

A few minutes later, he was staring proudly at himself in the mirror like an over tweeted canary, as Nyota dug out a new box of dermaplasters.

"Wow, that never happened before," Jim said. "Maybe that's why she was upset this morning. She has a little kink. Awww, It's kind of sweet...But she's been in my mind enough to know this is nothing. I mean, it's not like she wanted me to dress up in gladiator costume and -"

"It's not a kink, Jim!" Nyota closed her eyes. That poor girl. First bonded to Spock in his "bad old days," now involved with _Kirk_. "It's an obsessive compulsive territorial marking behavior."

Jim turned to her. "What are you saying?"

Reaching up, Uhura applied the dermaplaster and her whole future spread out in a tableau before her eyes. This is what her life as comm officer aboard the Enterprise is going to be - patching Jim up and explaining the cultural faux pas behide his sexcapades. Taking a deep breath, and applying the skin rejuvenator, Nyota said, "She's marked you as her mate."

"Oh," said Jim. He shrugged happily.

"Jim," Nyota said, "Vulcans pair bond for life."

"Oh. Yeah." His smile disappeared. Licking his lips, he mumbled, "But she's mind melded with me. She knows I'd make a horrible...I mean, for anyone, but a Vulcan especially. Aside from the Captaincy, my highest ambition is a threesome with identical twins..."

Smacking the dermaplaster a little too hard, Nyota said, "I suspect she might be a bit emotionally compromised, _sir_."

Shoulders falling, he said, "So, this is probably something I'm going to have to talk with her about?"

Restraining an urge to shake him, Nyota just raised a Spockish eyebrow.

All boyish cluelessness vanishing, Jim looked at his comm. "We better catch that shuttle."

x x x x

10 and a half hours after meeting Uhura, all Jim wanted to do was get a drink. Spock had officially tendered his resignation from Starfleet. The ship seemed to be falling apart - it was beautiful, but buggy. And his face hurt from giving fake smiles to the brass while he requested parts that did not seem to be forthcoming.

But really, more than that, he was terrified of talking to T'Pring.

Talking meant defining what they had, and defining what they had meant declaring that it couldn't go on. Because it wouldn't - would it? They both needed different things. There was no way he was giving up the _Enterprise_, and she never wanted to be left behind, or to go along either, in this life or the other.

So. He really wanted a drink.

But here he was on the turbolift in the officers' building on terra firma standing next to a quiet Uhura. Her head was tucked down. She had to be feeling bad with the news about Spock.

The tubolift chimed at her floor, and she didn't even say goodbye as she got off.

"Lieutenant," he said.

She looked up and her eyes were a little glassy. Nodding, he said, "Take care."

With a nod, she said, "You, too."

The door closed and before Jim really was ready, he was off the lift and opening the door to his unit. Taking a deep breath he entered. The front rooms were empty. "T'Pring?" he called.

There was no answer. Walking back towards the sleeping area and sanitary cubicle he called again, "T'Pring?"

There was no sign of her. Not knowing whether to feel relieved or more on edge for postponing the inevitable, he slumped down on the couch.

That's when his comm beeped. Sliding it out of his trousers, he saw an email from T'Pring. He hit accept and then just stared at the screen.

_James -_

_My actions this morning were illogical and inexcusable. I do not deserve your generosity or your friendship. I will not trouble you more._

_T'Pring_

He blinked. What?

x x x x

The day after Spock tendered his resignation, Uhura stood outside of the Captain's ready room as Jim's voice thundered through the door. "I don't care if you don't have the parts! The power used for lighting this ship cannot exceed .3%! Find a way to make it happen! Dismissed."

A group of slack faced engineers filed out of the room without meeting her eyes. Walking by, Sulu saw her and said, "You're going in to see The Burning Man? Good luck."

She took a deep breath. Remember the time capsule and T'Pau and Starfleet Intelligence, Nyota Uhura. Earth needs this Burning Man. And if she was hurting from Spock's decision to rejoin his people...well, she just had to pull it together.

Putting her hands behind her back, she stepped into the ready room. A pair of reading glasses on his head, hair slightly mussed, Jim was hunched over huge yellowing tomes. Books, genuine books? Here?

Snapping her from her reverie, he said, "What is it, Uhura?"

Jaw tightening, she said, "Do you want to talk about it, Sir?"

Not looking up, he barked, "If you're here to _talk _about the transponders for the Universal Translators on Deck 8, I told you already -"

"I said do _you _want to talk about it, Sir?" Nyota snapped.

Taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes, Jim said, "No."

Nyota did not move.

"Close the door, and sit down," he mumbled.

Nyota hit the door button.

A few minutes later she was scanning the note from T'Pring on Jim's comm.

"I don't even know what she means," Jim said running his hand through his hair.

"I wasn't there," Nyota said puzzling over the note. "What happened?" A sudden thought occurred to her. "She didn't bond with you, did she?"

Jim frowned. "Don't you think if I was on a telepathic leash I'd know?" Shaking his head he said, "I wish I did, then at least I would know where she is.

"She's not with the refugees in the amphitheater. I contacted the Vulcan Embassy, but they're swamped and haven't gotten back to me. I'm close to hacking into Starfleet Medical's records - if she is still working there she might have updated her address...but Bones is onboard the Enterprise today, and..." He slumped back. "Hacking into Starfleet Medical would not be good for my career."

Nyota stared at him. He was obviously hurting, which, well, was new. But. "Jim," she said, "I have friends in medical. I'll see what I can turn up. In the meantime - "

Waving a hand he said, "Don't be the burning man, I know."

x x x x

T'Pring settled herself in front of the _asenoi_, the traditional firepot used for meditation. The official Vulcan Ambassadorial residence was very quiet, although it was filled with other non-bonded female medical personnel. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. The room was just the right temperature, and even the right humidity, but her thoughts strayed to her memories.

Maybe if she followed those memories, examined them, she could find the exact point she started to stray? Why she briefly flirted with forsaking her people - she was among them every day, she saw all the unbonded males. And why, just as bad, or perhaps worse, she attempted the unforgivable, and betrayed a true friend.

She did not think it was engaging in a sexual relationship that caused the problem - if anything that seemed to help her remain composed. Although unorthodox, she did not believe it was entirely illogical.

She let her mind drift back. It began on their last day together. There was that odd moment at the surf shop where she was certain James was acting out of protectiveness. And there was his odd use of the possessive with regards to her in the hover and on the waves. Perhaps these things contributed, perhaps they interfered with her judgment, but they alone were not enough. She was still in control then.

She took a deep breath and almost shuddered. It was just after their last joining. T'Pring was sitting astride looking down at James; they were palm to palm and fingertip to fingertip. He was smiling, his face still wet, and he was gloriously happy. It buzzed down her fingertips and was infectious.

She rocked slightly, and mistaking her motion, he said, "Don't get off. I just want to look up at you."

She paused, and he dropped his hands and stroked her hips. "You're so beautiful," he said, eyes falling over her.

Except for the sound of his hands gently sliding over her skin, the world was silent for exactly 2.35 minutes,. And then he gave a low, almost barely audible laugh, and said, "You know, there is one way I guess Orions and Vulcans are the same..."

T'Pring felt heat flash behind her eyes. A feeling she hadn't felt since Spock had flaunted their bond long ago.

"...neither are ashamed of their bodies," James finished, completely oblivious.

"Let's not talk about Orions," T'Pring said too quickly.

There it _was_. The start. She should have caught herself, asked to leave.

James' brow had furrowed ever so slightly, and then he said, "You're right. It isn't healthy to dwell. Right now, it is just you. And me. Nothing else."

He slowly slid his hands up her sides and then let them drift down her arms until he found her fingers. The happiness came again. The contentment. And there were strains of affection there, too. She'd wanted to stay that way, always, and couldn't move.

Later laying curled next to each other, fingers of one hand touching, face to face, T'Pring tucked beneath the covers James not even beneath a sheet, she said, "You have regained your equilibrium." She was not without some awe.

His eyelids sinking he said, "Well, you know, if I don't keep going _Nero wins_." Sighing, he said, "Sometimes I take comfort in the idea that there are millions of different universes out there. Somewhere out there Vulcan still exists, your parents are still alive, my dad is still alive and my mother is a _lovely_ person. Maybe someday we'll be able to visit them...you know, with scientific progress." It had made T'Pring's heart hurt with joy to hear those words. Such a lovely, original idea!

He laughed very softly, sparking that lovely serotonin cascade in T'Pring's mind, and his eyelids slid even further down. "Somewhere out there I made it look like Spock was dead, and then you got me..."

He drifted off into sleep, but her neurons still sang ecstatically, even though she knew that statement should be bittersweet, even though she knew it was only a half conscious, amusing conjecture to him. She should have _left_ then.

Two light quick raps at her door startled her from her reverie. Her eyes opened to the _asenoi_, and a voice whispered, "T'Pring, you have a visitor. A Captain James T. Kirk."

**A/N:**

Reviewer Zing: According to the National Institute for Health, for some people 4 hours of sleep is enough. I know some "short sleepers" - to the one they're not over-achievers, they're _hyper_achievers. But I need a lot more than that! Sadly...

Okay, that is just a great cliffie. I have to post! I have to post! Even though this is short and I thought this would only be 8 chapters (it still might only be that much).

If you read and enjoyed, please leave a review. It's how fanfic authors get paid, and does help keep us going.


	6. Cruel and Vengeful

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Special thanks to Beta Notes from the Classroom. Check out her latest, "The Survivors" in my faves.

**Cruel and Vengeful**

T'Pring took a deep breath. Why was he here? Another apology? Perhaps to suggest she seek counseling for the error of her ways. She should, she knew, but there are so many seeking help from the elders - ones that were barely functioning.

"T'Pring, should I tell him you are indisposed?" T'Linea, the young woman at her door, asked.

Rising, T'Pring said, "No, I will go." She owed him that much.

She met him with T'Linea in the foyer. The ceiling was over four meters high, the floor was made from the polished red stones of her homeworld. On Vulcan they'd be nearly as red as human blood, but here in the gray light of San Francisco they looked dirty and brown.

James was in his Starfleet gold, his hands behind his back. He looked quickly to T'Pring, his jaw very tight. And then turning his head to T'Linea he said curtly, "I'm here on official business." Eyes coming back to T'Pring, a slight furrow between his brows, he said, "Where can we have some privacy?"

He was choosing to keep the matter private. She didn't deserve this courtesy. She tilted her head.  
Taking him to the wing where her fellow refugees were staying would be impolite, and T'Pring wasn't certain how secure the reception rooms were. "The garden," she said. "This way."

He followed her with quick steps. He was angry, most likely. He had a right to be.

They stepped outside into the ubiquitous fog. Their breath misted and hung in front of their faces.

The garden was a gift of the Japanese people and was designed in that style. As soon as they were behind some artfully cut hedges, James said, "T'Pring, what happened?"

She stopped in her tracks. It had occurred to her that perhaps James didn't know the depth of her transgression. Now for the first time it struck her he didn't actually know what she did - or tried to do.

Before she could say anything, he walked around her and said in a low voice, "You know, usually it's considered polite to end these things in person, not to do it over a comm."

She failed him in ways large and small. "Forgive me. I did not realize there were protocols that needed to be followed." This misunderstanding was just an example of why they were not a logical pair.

James took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. "No, no, of course you didn't." Dropping his hand he stepped forward until his face was merely 10 centimeters from hers. "I was _worried_about you - I wondered if maybe you'd been bonded against your will to some man in the midst of Plak Tau...or telepathically brainwashed."

She swallowed. "It was not my intention to make you worry."

She remembered trying to make him laugh just before he left that last morning, thinking that she failed, and then finding out she hadn't. Feeling his happiness radiate through her fingers.

"T'Pring," he said. "You still haven't answered me. What happened?"

T'Pring looked down. He made her happy, and that was her undoing. She let herself think she could give him happiness, like he'd done for her. That they could be happy together.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

Looking up quickly, T'Pring said, "No. No, you did nothing wrong. I...I..."

"If this is about the bite...it's really okay." His hands weren't behind his back now, they were at his side, in tight fists.

She blinked. "I know that you would not be offended by a bite. I have seen your mind." Although it was curious that she'd only felt the compulsion just at that moment.

Shrugging, he said, "Well, then, I really don't see -"

"James, I tried to bond with you," she said. "Without your prior consent, and obviously without your knowledge - _almost _against your will."

James' head dropped low, very close to her. He stared down at his shoe. She could smell his shampoo. She tried not to think of the one time they'd coupled in the shower, set to the exotic water setting, the foam from the shampoo running down between their bodies.

"Would that be so bad?" he said softly.

T'Pring tilted her head. James had been told by female partners on no fewer than 27 occasions that he was a child. T'Pring felt most of these accusations were unjust, from women who illogically demanded more when clearly all he could offer was temporary. But now she could see his childishness herself.

"You are not serious," she said.

Swallowing, he said. "I'm only _half _not serious."

Did she have to explain this? "We both have duties to our people," T'Pring said. "And our duties take us in different directions."

Looking up at her, he said, "But what do we want?"

T'Pring looked up at him. She shouldn't be annoyed, but she was, even though she was the one that wronged him.

"I need to help rebuild my race," she said. "Our culture. Our civilization. Conveniently, that need intersects with having a family, on a new home world." The place in her mind where she tried to bond with James, the memory of her parents, it reaffirmed that was her true desire - to rebuild a world - _her_ world, with a husband and children, hopefully someplace that was not gray, wet and cold. That was how _she_would ensure Nero didn't win.

And James, well...

Taking a breath she said, "You want a family, James. I have seen that. But you need change, new ideas, adventures. New experiences-" She exhaled, and the edges of her vision went black. She felt the same creeping black emotion she'd felt when she tried to bond. "New experiences of all kinds."

He was not Vulcan. It wasn't logical to expect his sexual mores to be Vulcan. Closing her eyes she said. "I almost took that from you." She could have. She was telepathic, he was not. It might have destroyed what he was, but she could have.

"But you didn't."

She opened her eyes. James was standing straight now. His jaw was set firm. "T'Pring, you didn't."

"You do not understand how wrong such an action would be. It would be akin to mental rape. It was unforgivable," she said.

Without warning, he reached out and touched her face. She could feel his sincerity, his concern. She did not deserve these emotions. He was so generous...and that made her still want him, to keep him. She averted her eyes.

"Look at me, T'Pring," he said, the command rippling from his fingertips.

She met his gaze, alien and violet in the low light.

"You didn't do it. It's important for you to remember that," he said, something very tender and protective coming from his fingers now. She also felt that strange emotion in her, that blackness that was like the space between the stars, and seemed to go on forever. She'd seen it between her parents, a sort of shadow or reflection of it in the familial bond. It made her heart constrict in her side, and made her want to press her forehead to his. It made her want to bond with him again...what a frustrating thing. Why didn't this emotion have a name? Perhaps because it was too dangerous?

There was a sound like a twig snapping and James dropped his hand. T'Pring stared at it resting by his side.

For .75 minutes they both were silent. When no one emerged, James said, "So who will you build your family with? Don't tell me you really don't care who it is."

T'Pring did care. She did not want to deal with a xenophobe, and she would prefer someone who was interested in other cultures and physics. She really did not want to be part of an emergency bonding. However. "I will deal with the situation as it arises. He will be Vulcan -" Not half Vulcan like Spock, or human like Jim. "We will understand each other. I will not fail him by failing to follow unfamiliar protocol."

James ran a hand through his hair. "You're really settled on this?"

"Yes," said T'Pring, keeping her hands firmly behind her back.

Looking down at his feet, he said, "I really just wish...we had a little more time together."

She did, too. She wanted more laughter, more happiness between their fingers, more lying together nose to nose, palm to palm. Coupling, and other human sexual behaviors that were not particularly efficient or necessary...Her vision went black again, and she almost stepped forward.

Catching herself, she said, "That would not be wise."

James raised his eyes. "You'll let me know if you need anything, right?"

T'Pring tilted her head. She would not dream of inconveniencing him.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "Right."

And then unexpectedly, he reached forward and took her hand. There were too many confusing emotions there for T'Pring to process. Regret, relief, affection, frustration, sadness, and hurt. She was confused by the amount of negativity; he seemed to bounce from sexual partner to partner with ease.

The link flared for a moment with conviction, determination. Leaning in he said, "You deserve someone who loves you, T'Pring. Do not settle for less."

Before she could process the thought, she felt a shimmer of _impulsivity _- that should have been a warning, but T'Pring was too moved to pay attention. Leaning forward, James brushed his lips to her cheek and T'Pring's heart seemed to sink to her hip.

She would never master that fascinating and confusing human behavior that seemed to convey so many emotions - or be on the receiving end ever again.

"Goodbye, T'Pring," he said, releasing her hand and leaving her mind adrift.

"Goodbye, James."

She watched him walk into the mist and leave the garden through a side gate. Her mind was a conflicting mass of too many feelings and sensations. It would take some time to sort his emotions from her own. She focused for that moment on his sense of relief. She had done the right thing, and that did bring her comfort.

She turned towards the residence and found herself facing T'Linea and an elder Vulcan woman. Vulcan brains were very literal, but perhaps all her neural contact with James had altered her mind somewhat because the first thing that came to her was an analogy: it wasn't only sharks that came out to feed at dusk.

x x x x

"You're not going back to Earth, Captain?"

Jim looked up from the tomes he'd been pouring over to see Uhura at the entrance to the ready room. "No. I've got all this pleasure reading to do," he said gesturing at the books. And why go home if no one was there? Hell, even Bones was pulling another late shift.

Uhura came forward, "_Starfleet Rules and Regulations Regarding Requisitions, Volumes I, II, III, and IV_?"

"Exciting, I know," he said. "These are the original paper printouts of the electronic files. They used to do that before quantum computers came online. I'm hoping to find a discrepancy between this and the codes in the database - something that didn't get transposed, or could be reinterpreted. It's all English - not even Standard."

"My old U.S. English is excellent, Sir." she nodded at him and said, "And I don't want to go home either."

The _Enterprise's_lights flickered and they both looked up. "They power down second shift," said Jim. "I have a reading light, and there are some parkas in the side closet. Pull up a chair."

Jim knew he'd never hear from T'Pring again. At least not in any real sense. He was sure if he emailed her she'd respond promptly with no information that was really important. It left an open gaping sort of hole in his middle.

As he sat alone with Uhura in the dark, knees nearly brushing for hours, it occurred to him that a few months ago he would have seen this as his golden opportunity. He'd flirted with Uhura _faithfully _for the better part of three and a half years; now they'd both been dismissed by Vulcans. It was the perfect set up for some human on human rebound sex.

...but the whole T'Pring episode had actually kind of left a sour taste in his mouth for the whole grief sex thing. And it was Uhura. She'd probably turn all icy and bitchy on him - and the easy camaraderie thing they had going was kind of a nice break from all out warfare.

He was pretty proud of his restraint when they actually found and figured out how to an exploit a loophole together.

...and he was just plain grateful for his restraint when Spock rejoined Starfleet and applied for position as first officer at the absolute last minute before launch. Spock was visibly happy when he stepped aboard. But when he walked by Uhura's station the look he gave - yeah, someone was on the receiving end of Vulcan obsessive compulsive marking behaviors that night. Maybe two someone's. Jim was sure Spock flinched when Jim hit his shoulder the next day. Hew was pretty glad he didn't come between _that. _It would have been potentially life threatening, and worse, _awkward_.

He was really, really, grateful there wasn't any awkwardness between them when after a year of milkruns his luck for finding trouble caught up with them.

x x x x

It was over. Nyota took a deep breath. They had managed to complete their first real mission, saved Earth and made it back to tell the tale. It only took a few _years._

She stood at the bar in Ortz Station between Kirk and Spock, blissfully happy to be back in civilization. All around her were their crewmates, as happy and grateful as she was. She caught sight of McCoy over in the corner, grousing happily a little too close to Christine. She smiled. If McCoy could be happy, anyone could be.

Above her head a holo snapped to life and her eyes automatically went to it.

An Asian man with features too symmetrical to be real began to speak. _This is Brian Kwan of the Sol News network. It has been confirmed that the Enterprise, captained by James T. Kirk, intercepted the terrorists and the red matter outside of the Ortz Cloud._

Around her, Kirk and the crew began to clap. Someone started to hoot. Even the "Spock Channel," her affectionate name for the bond between Spock and her, started to buzz.

She couldn't hear the next words on the holo, the cheers that came next were so loud, but she read the transcript at the bottom of the screen.

_A small singularity occurred, and all traffic has been grounded coming and going from Sol System._

Nyota frowned and looked outside the bar. The station did seem to be unusually crowded. It made sense. All the passengers and ships would be scanned for other possible terrorists.

The screen flashed and Nyota, turned to it. Her breath caught in her throat.

_These images are just coming in. They were obtained by a Sol News satellite just hours ago. You can see the minor singularity. What is striking are the two vessels coming and going from the black hole simultaneously. Both are the Enterprise. No explanation from Starfleet yet._

She felt the Spock Channel switch to serious. Beside her, Kirk's jaw got hard.

The explanation was that the _Enterprise_had gone into the singularity, found themselves in the year 4 A.D., and discovered that a group of pre-Surakian Vulcans were in the process of enslaving the British Isles. After the crew defeated said Vulcans, Kirk, Spock and Chekov managed to figure out how to use the same singularity to jump back to the future at exactly the moment they'd left.

Although it took the _Enterprise_years to return, to the rest of the galaxy no time had passed at all. This was supposed to be top secret and confidential, of course.

"Let Starfleet Intelligence figure it out," Kirk said quietly. "We deserve a break."

Turning to the assembled crew, he held up a glass. His voice boomed above the din. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to propose a toast - to the finest crew Starfleet has ever known!" When the cheering died down a bit, in a voice that rang with both authority and sincerity, he said, "It is an honor to serve with all of you. This round is on me."

There were more cheers, and people came up to slap Kirk on the back and shake his hand. Nyota couldn't help but think of how far he'd come since that first night in Iowa.  
_  
_Feeling benevolent, Nyota put a hand on Kirk's shoulder. "Well done, Captain."

To her surprise, he didn't even look at her. Instead, his eyes were trained to the door of the bar, open to the main thoroughfare beyond. Smiling, he said, "I don't care what you and Spock say, Uhura. There is a God."

Nyota turned her eyes to the door. There stood three young women. All blonde. All busty. All beautiful. All _exactly _identical.

The Spock Channel buzzed. _In some ways, he has not come that far._

Jim's face got suddenly serious and he turned back to the bar and held up his hand for another round.

"You're not going to go introduce yourself to them, Captain?" said Nyota.

"Nope," said Jim. "Lieutenant, I have matured."

Nyota's eyes met Spock's. They stared at each other, brains and mouths mute with shock.

"Sulu and Chekov are going over to them," said Jim as the bartender handed him a drink.

Spock peered over Jim's shoulder. "Indeed, you are correct."

Jim took a sip of his drink. "Now Sulu and Chekov are talking to them...Chekov's probably going to talk about physics..."

Peeking over Jim's shoulder, Nyota said, "I can't read their lips at this angle..."

"And the bar is too loud to overhear what they are saying," Spock said.

Lifting a finger, Kirk said, "They're looking over here."

Nyota blinked. "Yes."

"Don't look at them, Uhura," Jim said in a voice so captainly that Nyota obeyed instinctively. Closing his eyes, and waving his finger as though conducting a tiny invisible orchestra Jim said, "5...4...3...2...1..._Annnnnddddd..._they're on the way over."

"Affirmative, Captain," said Spock.

"Look this way, Commander," Jim said.

Nyota hazarded a quick glance. As the girls moved closer she noticed how scantily dressed they were and, were those...

_Fake,_ thought Spock. _The rate of oscillation suggests scar tissue over their mammary glands._

"Oh," said Nyota, looking into her drink. _How do you..._

Before she could finish the thought, a light, airy feminine voice was saying, "My name is Sherry, and these are my sisters, Cheryl and Shanna. Are you James T. Kirk?"

Spock tilted his head. _Identical triplets. Very rare. Fascinating._

Nyota thought it was fascinating Jim's brain wasn't exploding. Or that he wasn't salivating on the bar.

Instead, downing his drink, Jim turned around slowly. Without even the faintest flicker of a smile, he said, "Yes. Yes, I am."

All three gasped in unison. Rolling her eyes, Nyota threw back her shot.

Through the burn she heard one of them say, "The curly haired guy says you like physics, and we want you to know we work out everyday, too!"

Gazing wistfully into his drink, Spock thought, _It is unfortunate that I am immune to the inebriating effects of alcohol; it would dull the pain.  
_

"I can tell," said Jim, eyes on the sisters, his voice low.

All three of them giggled.

It was like a hover crash. Nyota found that she just couldn't turn away.

"Did you just save the world?" said another one, eyes wide holding out her hand.

Shrugging, Jim slid a little closer to them and said, "All in a day's work." Taking the proffered hand he said, "But how did you get here...Shanna?"

"I'm Cheryl, she's Shanna," said the handheld one.

"We were on a way to Risa to film a holo when our shuttle was stopped," said Cheryl, Shanna, or Sherry.

"Sounds, interesting," said Jim, licking his lips slightly.  
_  
_Nyota sighed as one of the girls said, "It's okay if you get our names wrong. Really the only way to tell us apart are our tattoos."

Smiling, Jim said, "Are you going to show me..." And then his eyes lifted to the door of the bar and his face went slack.

Through the bond, Nyota felt shock.

She looked back to Jim. Gazing at the girls, distress was writ large upon his face. His eyes went to the door again.

Beside her, Spock took a step in that direction, too. _Was that..._

"What's going on?" asked one of the girls, her face a picture of innocent bewilderment.

"I ahhh..." said Jim. He looked back at them. "I am so sorry..."

Briefly, a look crossed across his face like a toddler just told he can't have any candy. Then swallowing he said, "I think I just saw someone. Why don't you talk to Lieutenant Uhura, here? She'll be glad to tell you all about Starfleet...and physics...and..." quickly pecking them each on the cheeks, he said, "I have to go."

She thought she heard him mumbling something about a cruel and vengeful God as he half walked, half ran to the door.

Turning back, she found Cherry, Swirl and Sade's vacant eyes all on her.

"Ummmm..." she said.

All their eyes slid over to her bond mate. "Are you Commander Spock?" said one stepping very close and cutting Nyota off from him.

Nyota was not particularly jealous, but this was a bit much.

Pushing the girl gently to the side, she took Spock's hand. "Yes, he is. And he's taken."

All three girls started to pout.

Spock's you-are-my-territory-and-I-am-your-territory brain was humming. _I am suppressing a purr. We need to find a room for the night. _

"What about the party?" said Nyota.

Spock's eyes narrowed, and she repressed a smirk. It worked the other way, too. When the leader of the Pre-Surakian Vulcans had declared Nyota's skin color exquisite, she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep for a week.

Pulling on her hand, he said, "Come."

Smiling back at the girls - who were definitely not happy, she followed him out of the bar and down the main thoroughfare. For a moment she briefly saw the Captain. He was talking to a very pretty, petite, not-particularly busty, Vulcan woman. Nyota seemed to recall her from somewhere.

_You remember her from the bond, _Spock supplied. _It is T'Pring._

Nyota didn't have much time to think about it. Spock pulled her beneath an awning that declared itself the Cloud Hotel and began to flood her mind with images of him and her in very Vulcan, very necessary, activities.

**A/N:**

Triplets! Going to film a holo on Risa...heh, heh, heh. Poor Jim! And where is T'Pring off to?

This story fits with my Descartes 'verse, with the exception of Jim/T'Pring. Anyway, the trip back in time is referenced in "A Question for the Ages".

To everyone reviewing - Thank you so much! The only reason to write fanfic is for the feedback. Without the feedback, the whole reason to write kind of goes away. I'm pretty to receptive to negative critiques too, they've definitely helped improve my stories.

If you liked this chapter, or didn't...let me know!


	7. Ruthless

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Special thanks to beta Notes from the Classroom. Check out her latest, "The Survivors," in my faves!

**Ruthless**

If Jim had been about to land the lay - yea,_ lays_, of his life and Bones had walked by and he hadn't seen him in years, Jim would have walked away from said lays to say hello. Bro's before ho's and all that.

At least that was how Jim was justifying walking away from _identical _triplets. Of course, Jim never had sex with Bones, and T'Pring wasn't really a bro, but she definitely wasn't a ho either and Jim would still fight anyone who dared call her that. But the principle was the same.

He could see T'Pring up ahead in the bustling crowd of rerouted travelers. Her nose was bent over a PADD just as it had been when he'd seen her walk by the bar. And he was kind of relieved by that, because if she'd seen him with triplets - well, that might have been uncomfortable, which is sort of where the T'Pring as Bones analogy really broke down.

If Bones wasn't with Chapel, Jim would gladly have shared one of the twisted sisters with him. With T'Pring that wasn't an option. He didn't like the idea of those girls even touching T'Pring. T'Pring was telepathic, and their empty heads might have sucked all of her smarts right out, through telepathic osmosis or something. Jim wasn't sure if that was actually possible, but he wouldn't want to risk it.

About 3 meters ahead, T'Pring stopped and looked up at the awning of a restaurant, and then back down at her PADD.

"T'Pring!" Jim shouted with a wave.

Lifting her head, she gazed out at the crowd. Her eyes met James and she straightened.

Closing the last meter between them, he almost picked her up in a hug but just caught himself. "Um, hi," he said.

"James," T'Pring said. She looked up at him and she was just, well, so beautiful, and cute, and wholesome. No fake boobs, or fake blonde, or nose jobs. He just wanted to scoop her up, push her into the nearest nook, and ravage her.

"You appear to have aged exponentially," she said, snapping him out of his fantasy.

"Umm..." he said.

She looked down at her PADD again, and Jim noticed it displayed the Sol News Network's picture of the _Enterprise_ coming and going from the singularity at the same time.

Looking back up at him, eyes visibly widening, she said, "You went back in time discovered the Pre-Surakian Vulcans on Earth, defeated them, and came back. More time has passed for you than for us."

She actually sounded excited. Well, as excited as a Vulcan could get anyways. And she was so smart. He just wanted to kiss the tip of her little nose. And then ravage her. A stupid big happy boy grin spread over his face, and then remembering himself he said, "Um, I'm not supposed to talk about it."

T'Pring stared at him for a moment. "Is it a matter we could speak of in the hypothetical?"

Jim looked up. "I suppose I could imagine a scenario where hypothetically I could have gone back in time and returned to tell the tale." Glancing around he said, "But it's crowded here." He looked up at the awning, _Acceptable Vulcan Cuisine Restaurant._ "Let's sit down and discuss it," he said, gesturing to the door of the restaurant.

"Yes, let us," said T'Pring.

x x x x

The restaurant had a wide window open to the thoroughfare. Halfway through their meal, the wait staff had opened it, apologizing for a blocked air recirculator in the restaurant. The sound of the Sol News Network on holovids every few feet along the walkway droned in the background, mixing with the chatter of the waylaid travelers. Jim hardly noticed the noise. Leaning over the table, he was barely suppressing a grin.

T'Pring was leaning forward, too. "So it would seem, hypothetically speaking, that any place where the timeline has been rift, that place will always be susceptible to further crossover from other times."

"That, hypothetically speaking, could be the working hypothesis," Jim said.

"Fascinating," said T'Pring. Sitting back in her chair, she said, "But wouldn't one have to be concerned about the possibility of crossing into an alternate reality?"

Nodding, Jim said, "Yes, in a hypothetical scenario that could be a problem. Upon arrival, one hypothetical captain might order his hypothetical crew to cross check recent subspace transmissions with their records."

Tilting her head, T'Pring said, "Yes, but the differences between universes can be infinite, or barely noticeable. Could such a scan account for something subtle, like the persistence of hominid tails?"

Jim blinked. "Hominid tales?"

Leaning forward again, T'Pring said, "Do you not have a tail?"

Jim's mouth opened. Was she really suggesting? Well, it was possible. He looked at one of the passing waiters. He saw no outward evidences of a tail. Although if they tucked it in...

He looked at T'Pring. There was something very expectant about the way she was leaning forward. Her eyes were just a fraction too wide.

Grinning, he said, "You're putting me on."

She blinked and he chuckled.

"Pulling my leg," he added.

She pressed her lips together subtly, something she did when she was confused.

Leaning across the the table, Jim whispered, "Telling a joke."

Nodding, she said, "Yes. Was it a good -"

Jim took her hand and she stopped mid-sentence. He had the sensation of falling and finding his feet as the connection formed between them.

"It was a good one," he said chuckling again. He didn't hear her hum, but he _felt_ it, he was _sure_.

He sighed and rolled her hot dry fingers beneath his own. She was just so - herself. Smart, and funny; alright, not always intentionally. She was _real_. There had been girls at almost every port-of-call before the jump back in time. He never thought of them during the stint into the past, and he had a lot of long lonely nights to reflect. He did think of T'Pring.

During the "jump back" as the crew called it, Jim had officiated over no fewer than four weddings. At first he thought the couples were crazy for getting married. He saw how _just_ being _involved_ with someone upped the emotional ante. Even if it was a no-strings attached thing, it made working conditions uncomfortable, and made you second guess your decisions. He knew this from firsthand experience now, but he'd never breathe a word about it_ ever_.

But...he began to notice that for some of the couples who _committed_, Spock and Nyota, and even Bones and Chapel, the risks might be higher, but so were the emotional rewards. They seemed so steady. So focused. It was as though once they got that part of their life settled they could move on to more important things.

He stared down at T'Pring's hand. It was so neat, and small and soft. They were so different, and yet they seemed to fit together. He blinked. He was forgetting himself. Smiling, he looked up and said, "It is so good to see you, T'Pring. But to what do I owe this pleasure? You hate space travel. Why are you here?"

T'Pring stared down at their fingers. "I was on my way to Irak khio'ri," said T'Pring.

Only 10,000 Vulcans had escaped the homeworld, but there were more scattered throughout the galaxy. Expatriates, and diplomats, working in places like Earth, Betazoid, Andoria; and researchers in remote outposts - Irak Khio'ri, a Vulcan colony and research station near the neutral zone.

"Whatever for?" asked Jim, leaning on his free hand, a blissed-out smile on his face.

Jim felt her answer before he heard it. His stomach fell; his hand in hers seemed to go cold.

"To be bonded," she said.

x x x x

Because T'Pring could not touch James and verify his emotional state, she tried to make him laugh, to ensure his emotional state. To make him as happy as she felt just seeing him. And also, because it was an intellectual challenge, she was a Vulcan, and such things were difficult to resist.

But then he touched her! He wouldn't have done it on Vulcan, but of course he had in the garden in San Francisco. And as he did his happiness, the pleasant buzz of his comprehension of her joke coursed through her and _almost_ made her start to hum.

She stared down at his hand on her own. His touch in the garden of the Vulcan Embassy had made her life the past year so much more complicated.

After that last meeting with him, T'Pring had gone back into the residence and T'Valer, one of elderly matriarchs, had called T'Pring to her chambers. No sooner had T'Pring bowed when T'Valer asked her, "What is the extent of your relationship with the human?"

"We are friends," T'Pring replied. It wasn't quite the right description but the closest her language came to it.

T'Valer tilted her head, her black eyes glistening in the low light. "Are you lovers?" T'Valer asked, employing the Standard word for lover.

T'Pring tilted her head, shocked by T'Valer's bluntness. Lover. The concept that was so foreign to her people. She remembered Jim's memories of another life. In that life she had a lover, too. Stonn. A man she'd never met in this life. Was there something in her constitution that pushed her to deviancy? No, it was not deviancy, it was the ways of humans. Perhaps having her mind joined for so long to a half human had altered her?

In that other life she had rejected Pon Farr with Spock for Stonn. If _that _Spock was like_ her _Spock, he had been too prideful to even consider Pon Farr was a possibility and had needlessly endangered her. If that was the case...she found she did not find the behavior of her other self illogical. Calculating and ruthless, perhaps, but not illogical.

"To be honest," T'Valer said, her voice a bit airy, slow as though exhausted, "is always logical."

T'Pring looked up at the woman. "We were," she said. She found she didn't feel ashamed.

T'Valer nodded. To T'Pring's surprise, she did not reprimand her. "Others have done much worse. There have been many needless suicides." Nodding and exhaling, the elder said, "It will complicate your bonding. You will need to disclose your illogical behavior to your future mate. But there are so few females..."

T'Valer took a deep breath and looked away. "Reflect on the illogic of your ways and you will be accepted."

Straightening, T'Pring said, "I do not believe my behavior was illogical." How could it be if it saved her from the ultimate act of illogic? And hadn't it helped her find herself? Find her way back to duty to her people?

Turning her head sharply to T'Pring, T'Valer said, "Reconsider."

T'Pring did not respond. Nor did she reconsider.

"It is so good to see you, T'Pring. But to what do I owe this pleasure? You hate space travel. Why are you here?"

James' words snapped T'Pring to the present. To his hand in her own and the feelings flowing there. His emotions were familiar, but changed. She felt his happiness, affection, curiosity and the undercurrent of desire that seemed always present in him. But all of these things had deepened somehow, like the flavors in a stew left to simmer.

"I was on my way to Irak khio'ri," said T'Pring, staring at his hand.

"Whatever for?" James asked.

Her stomach constricted slightly - and that was not illogical, was it?

"To be bonded," she said.

"Oh," said James.

For a frightening moment, T'Pring thought he might pull his hand away. His grip loosened. He pulled back slightly.

But then his grip firmed. Determination overlay those other familiar feelings. "Do I know him? Do _you_ know him?" he said.

Taking a breath, T'Pring said, "You do not know him. His name is Tilvok. I have met him, just once, over subspace. His father and mother are alive. I have met with them personally on New Vulcan."

Alarm fanned from James through her fingers.

It amplified T'Pring's own unease. Even if Tilvok and his family did not have a disparaging word for her.

"Will he..." James exhaled loudly and anger flashed across her fingers. "Will he be good to you? I've heard about Vulcans who've bonded with humans being discriminated against. What we did -"

"He knows," said T'Pring. "I disclosed the nature of our relationship."

Jim looked down, "And he is fine with it. Really? How do you know he won't hold it against you later?"

He was genuinely worried for her; she could feel it. And jealous, too. It almost made her stumble over her next words. Speaking softly so they couldn't be overheard, T'Pring said, "James, he spent his first Pon Farr with an Orion - before they knew the side effects."

James straightened, his jealousy overcome with worry. "Isn't there mental scaring after the bond between Orions and Vulcans are dissolved?"

"Yes," said T'Pring. The differences between Orions and Vulcans were just too different for a successful bond. "But I will handle it."

Just as Tilvok would have to deal with her memory of James. Perhaps she was not scarred, but she knew that her memories of her time with James would shape her view of the universe and inform her actions. Unless Tilvok was strong enough to overpower her telepathically. She looked up at James and he caught what she was feeling at that moment before she could shield it.

"You don't want to do this," James said. "You're afraid."

"You exaggerate my emotions. What I feel, this unease. It is not illogical. It is a life defining event," T'Pring said.

Picking up her hand and cradling it between his own, he swallowed. "T'Pring, I know you want to serve your people, I know you want to have a family...look at me, T'Pring."

Raising her eyes, T'Pring met James' eyes, now the same eerie electric blue as the sky of his homeworld. His jaw was tight; conviction burned through his fingers. "T'Pring, there are different ways to serve your people. Spock decided that joining Starfleet was the more logical way," James said. "And there are different types of families...and where those people are, that is where home is."

T'Pring blinked. "What are you proposing?"

The link between them welled with uncertainty, and she knew exactly what he was proposing. But he didn't. Not really. He was half-serious again.

"Starfleet always needs doctors," he said, the conviction gone, but something else. An emptiness, a yearning. For a few minutes it sucked T'Pring in. Their earlier conversation so delightful and exciting replayed in her mind. Lying under covers, palm to palm, kisses she didn't quite know how to respond to fluttering over her face, fascinating expressions she couldn't quite comprehend - these things replayed in her mind too.

Something blossomed in her fingers. It was hope.

She looked down at his hands, rough, a little red from his iron blood. "This is not a logical contemplation," she said.

"Why not?" said James.

She didn't lift her head. She repressed the urge to sigh. Or to snarl at him. This was fantasy. Keeping her voice perfectly neutral she said, "And will you wait for me, James, in the years it would take me to complete the training?"

All confidence vanished from him. But what was startling was the _shame _that flushed in his fingers. It was odd - he did not normally feel shame about his sexual experiences.

He looked down at their hands. "If you were in my head," he said quietly, "don't you think...it might be different?"

T'Pring's vision went black. In his head. To be there always...for a moment she forgot all that was logical - and everything that was around them.

"Captain Kirk! There you are!" said a feminine voice.

It was like being dunked under water. T'Pring straightened. Outside the window of the restaurant, three voluptuous-looking fair haired human women were standing. They were scantily clad and all _identical. _T'Pring's eyes went to James' face. His skin flushed.

"T'Pring, I don't even know them -"

"When you left us at the bar, we wondered where you'd gone!" said another one of them.

Several people in the crowd stopped, "It is him!"

"I don't really know them. I just met them, T'Pring," James said, and she could feel his sincerity.

T'Pring squeezed his hand. "I believe you." She looked at the women.

"Hi," one said. "Who are you?"

T'Pring had the urge to hiss at her, or run. "I must go," she said, drawing her hand out of James' grasp and standing up.

"T'Pring, wait," he said.

"I must go," she said, walking as fast as she could from the restaurant - it wasn't easy to leave. A crowd was forming. All around her she heard, "He saved the planet, _again._ It was just on the holovid."

She pushed her way through, resorting to using her hands. When she got to the gate for her transport, they'd just begun boarding. As soon the transport cleared space dock she went to the restroom and promptly vomited. It was only partially because of physical contact with strangers.

x x x x

"But he was with T'Pring yesterday when I saw him last!" said Nyota as they stood outside the door two floors down and one door to the left of their own room in the Cloud Hotel. It was the day after the run in with the triplets. Spock and Nyota were both plastered with dermaplasters under their unifroms.

Hitting the door chime, Spock said, "The captain is not with T'Pring. She would not engage in unbonded sex."

The statement was not without some bitterness. T'Pring had not engaged in unbonded sex with _Spock_. Not that Nyota blamed her. Spock had resented her tremendously and treated her accordingly. But that was not something Nyota was going to bring up. Instead, pointing at her head, she said, "You're in my brain; you've seen the bite mark she gave him. Don't even tell me how faulty human memory is."

She crossed her arms over her chest.

Ignoring her, Spock hit the door chime again. "I don't see why this matter interests you so much."

"Because I'm a hopeless romantic. I think he's in love with her," Nyota said.

Spock raised an eyebrow and the bond between them hummed with disbelief.

Shrugging, Nyota said, "She's the only girl he talks about when he's really drunk."

"Ah, I see. True love," said Spock.

The dry delivery did it to her every time. She laughed and felt the silent hum of his satisfaction. He did enjoy it when he delivered a zinger, and he enjoyed the sensation of her laughing. Sometimes she thought it was mildly intoxicating for him.

"I want to meet her," Nyota said, while he was in a good mood.

Spock did not sigh, but she could feel him restrain it. She really was not at all jealous of T'Pring. Spock wished she were. He couldn't help it; it was a territorial Vulcan thing. "You will not meet her, Nyota," Spock said. "She is not behind this door - and it would have been better if you hadn't come."

He hit the chime again. This time there was a muffled, "Who is it?"

"Captain, it is Spock, and -"

The door slid open. Nyota's eyes went to the ceiling fan turning very slowly overhead. On each of its three blades hung three identical hot pink panties.

"God, is shore leave over already?" grumbled Kirk.

Her eyes went to the bed. He was lying on his stomach, his head in his hands, the bottom half of his torso covered by a sheet, his top half completely bare. Maybe it was testament to how well she knew him, and the smell of alcohol in the room, but the sight did nothing for her. Which might be why Spock was taking her tagging along so well.

"No," said Spock. "But Admiral Komack wishes to speak with you. When Scotty could not reach you, he called me. Have you lost your comm again?"

"Ummm..." said Jim scratching his head.

The link buzzed with Spock's exasperation. _This happens frequently._ "Never mind," said Spock, "I will find it."

"Where is T'Pring?" Nyota said in a voice she hoped didn't sound too disillusioned.

"Gah!" Jim jumped in bed and gathered the sheets around him. "Uhura, what are you doing here?"

Looking up at the ceiling fan, Nyota said, "You were with T'Pring. What happened?"

She had begun to feel such promise for Kirk. Sometimes she and Spock referred to him as "the boy" as though he were their child. But during the jump back he seemed to grow up. Nyota didn't have to talk him out of heated situations with druid priestesses or Pre-Surakian Vulcans and he hadn't gotten involved with anyone in the crew.

"The comm is in the sanitary cubicle," said Spock, looking at his own comm and heading in that direction.

"When you get thrown off a pony you have to get right back on or you become afraid," said Jim, wiping his eyes.

"In your case it looks like it was three ponies, Captain," Nyota said, feeling a wee bit grossed out. The way the triplets closed in on Spock; they were stupid and skanky.

Kirk shrugged, wrapped the sheet around him and sat up in the bed.

"But you didn't tell me what happened with T'Pring?" said Nyota.

Huffing he said, "Her transport was just rerouted like all the rest. She is on her way to Irak khio'ri to be bonded." At those words he put his elbows on his knees and lay his head in his hands.

"Oh," said Nyota. Feeling slightly sorry for Jim, she averted her eyes...and promptly saw what looked like three bras knotted together on the bedstand. Embarrassed, her gaze fell - and promptly landed on some empty bottles on the floor.

She sighed. _ I can't imagine why she'd want to skip out on this man, _she thought.

_Precisely, _Spock responded through the bond.

Perhaps mistaking the sigh for sympathy, Jim said, "She's a very sweet girl. I wish her the best."

Nyota tilted her head. Were bad boys as drawn to sweet girls as much as sweet girls were reportedly drawn to them?

It was five years before Nyota saw T'Pring again. When she did, "sweet" wasn't the descriptor that first sprang to mind. Ruthless was more like it.

**A/N:**

So there is a little inkling that Jim might not have been true to his intentions in the jump-back interval. Heh. But give the guy a break, he's still in his 20's and he came to fame rather fast. I believe there is hope for him (and James/T'Pring).

T'Pring reflects on a projection she caught from a guy in the Vulcan Defense Force about a jump back in time, so Jim didn't really tell her anything she didn't know.

If you read and enjoyed, please leave a review! Your reviews, even if they are only a word or two, really help me keep writing. (And help convince folks browsing through fanfic that this story might be worth their time).


	8. Sweet Judith

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Special thanks to beta Notes from the Classroom. Check out her latest, "The Survivors" in my faves.

**Sweet Judith - Part 1**

T'Pring and Tulvouk sat on the veranda of one of Irak khio'ri's few restaurants. Above them was only the sun. Until two months ago there would have been a biodome. Irak khio'ri's colony was an experiment in terraforming that had begun 10 years before the fall of Vulcan - all their hard work was just bearing fruit. Literally. On the steppes around the only settlement's perfectly circular footprint, crops were now growing.

It was, by any objective standard, a beautiful day.

"How is T'Rene?" T'Pring said to Tulvouk, stabbing a vegetable just ever so slightly too hard.

"She is well," said Tulvouk.

Only as far as he could gather, T'Pring knew.

_You do not know that her bonding was anything but consensual, _Tulvouk thought.

_I treated her,_ T'Pring replied across the bond. She liked the young researcher who worked with Tulvouk very much, even if she was a bit eccentric. T'Rene's father had been an ambassador to Andoria and had even done a stint as a consulate general on Earth. She had recently bonded to another one of Tulvouk's colleagues, an older researcher who had lost his bondmate at Vulcan. T'Pring just couldn't imagine T'Rene being interested in the older, much more conservative man...and... T'Pring tried to block them but the memories of T'Rene's battered body flashed through her mind.

Tulvouk did not flush, but T'Pring felt him suppress it. _It can be...intense, T'Pring. And she was too young._

Precisely. T'Pring thought, but this time she kept it from transferring.

A swathe of red, blue and gold appeared in the corner of T'Pring's vision and she stiffened but did not look.

Tulvouk did look. He put a hand on T'Pring's own. She felt peace, acceptance, and the beginnings of that dark emotion that humans called Vulcan love. Since the Fall of Vulcan there had been many human-female Vulcan-male bondings. Although Vulcans would not put a name to Vulcan emotions, their humans did.

T'Pring felt the edges of her vision go slightly black in turn.

"He is not there," Tulvouk said.

"Thank you," she said. T'Pring put the fork and the cruelly-stabbed vegetable down.

It had taken so much time, acceptance, and determination to get to this point with Tulvouk, and now the _Enterprise_ was in system and some of her crew were on planet. James - Mr. Kirk- had the gall to suggest she meet him for tea during his shore leave.

Tulvouk tilted his head. _To be fair, he probably does not realize how...impolite the offer was. _

She could feel the effort it took him to say it. T'Pring turned her hand up so the tips of their fingertips were touching. _You are very logical, _she thought gratefully.

_So are you,_ Tulvouk responded, and that dark emotion returned - and gratitude.

She had to be logical. Tulvouk was haunted by memories of Kala, the Orion he had spent his first Pon Farr with when his bondmate died at Vulcan. Bonds once consummated did not break cleanly. He saw visions of the Orion sometimes on waking, or during meditation.

Worse, sometimes Kala tried to call him. Unions between Vulcans, who were naturally monogamists, and Orions, who some scientists speculated needed polygamous relationships to stay mentally healthy, were destined for failure. Which didn't mean that Kala didn't _care_ for Tulvouk, or Tulvouk for her.

T'Pring still cared for James, too. Sometimes she felt like there were really four members of her bond. Or as Tulvouk once fascinatingly expressed it, 2 Vulcans and 2 ghosts. Humans said Vulcan love did not die, but you learned to deal with it.

Dealing with it did not mean seeing James. She did not want to see him. Not really. Maintaining a "friendly" relationship was not workable. Vulcans were too possessive - as were their bondmates.

A breeze blew a tendril of T'Pring's hair across her face. After five years the feel of wind that wasn't the product of air circulators was exquisite.

_May I? _ Tulvouk inquired lifting his hand.

_Of course,_ T'Pring replied through the bond.

Tulvouk gently tucked the stray tendril behind her ear. Where his fingers crossed her skin she felt tendrils of Vulcan love again.

She stared into his black eyes beneath his perfectly neutral traditional haircut. He had very strong, symmetrical features. His skin had just a hint of olive. It was illogical to be overly concerned with the aesthetics of one's bondmate; nonetheless, T'Pring wasn't displeased that he was handsome, by any objective measure. "This was a good idea," T'Pring said aloud.

It was rare that they met during their lunch breaks. Usually they met in the evenings, if at all. They weren't married yet, and did not intend to be married until Tulvouk's next Pon Farr. They were both busy with work, T'Pring as the settlement's doctor, Tulvouk as one of the leaders of the colony's terraforming project.

"Yes," said Tulvouk. He looked at the robes she wore. _They suit you very well,_ he thought, and the thought wasn't purely objective.

She transferred her pleasure at the compliment, and of one accord they left the restaurant.

15.5 minutes later they were at their separate workplaces. T'Pring was going through her email before changing into the more practical clothing she wore while treating patients. Behind her one of the medics said to another, "Do they have to be granted shore leave here? Humans are so indiscreet. A man touched his lips to the cheek of a woman in the square today."

T'Pring bristled and turned. "They defend our people; they aided us in our hour of greatest need and have asked nothing in return. Now, their engineering crew is repairing the subspace array at the edge of our system. If the remainder of their crew require rest, the least we can do is provide it to them."

The two medics, a young man and woman native to Irak khoi'ri, bowed to her and then hastily retreated. She resisted the urge to correct their logic further. One thing she did not like about the colony was how insulated it was from recent history. Vulcans at New Vulcan did not deride humans as easily as they once had, whatever they felt internally.

Here. She tilted her head. Tulvouk's experiences with an alien set him apart. He once had been more bigoted, too. Sometimes she wished he would speak out more against the illogic of their compatriots. This thought had no sooner crossed her mind when the hospital alarm sounded, and then the emergency intercom outside her window cracked to life. _"The colony is being invaded. Gather your arms and head to the rendezvous point." _

The bond hummed with urgency. _Run,_ _T'Pring_. She had no weapons, only her medical bag. Grabbing it quickly, she scanned her memory. They had no overnight patients right now. She went to the waiting room and with the medics she began to help the few elderly and infirm out of the building. She was on her way to a waiting hover when the air beside her began to shimmer.

x x x x

Jim really shouldn't have let Spock and Nyota convince him to go on shore leave. Spock and Nyota were cozying up over a map of the planet - next to Bones and Christine who were also looking rather cozy.

Glancing up at him, Christine asked, "Don't you want to come with us to see the terraforming stations? The scenery is supposed to be spectacular."

"Yeah," said Jim. "You know, I don't feel like being cooped up in a hover." Not with two couples who looked like they were about to go on their second honeymoons. He should have stuck with Scotty, no matter how boring subspace array repair was. Now the _Enterprise_ was 24 hours away. What had he been thinking? That T'Pring might want to get together, just for old times sake? It had been 5 years, damn it. Couldn't they just meet like friends and say hello?

Instead all he'd gotten was a terse email saying she was unavailable. After 5 years she couldn't make herself available for half an hour?

"Are you sure?" said Nyota.

Jim ran his hand through his hair. Maybe staying here wasn't such a good idea.

And then Spock put a hand on Nyota's hip.

"Yeah," Jim said. "I think I'll stay. This place is a lot like Vulcan. Even the architecture is what I remember. Might be nice to relive my exchange student days."

Blinking, Nyota said, "Weren't you sent to Vulcan as punishment for mouthing off?"

Tilting his head, Spock said, "I seem to remember something about a physical altercation with -"

"Yeah, I've been in your head, too, Spock," Jim said. And Spock's body. It was one of the more stressful events in the 5 year mission. Hooking up with Janet Lester in this universe was nice, but didn't quite pay for the whole miserable-switching-bodies-with-Spock-experience.

...or maybe at the time it had, but since the events of Altos-5 his typical playbook was leaving him feeling a little empty.

Grabbing a coat that he wouldn't really need in the dry heat of Irak khio'ri, he headed for the door, saying, "See you later. Have fun!"

He thought he heard Christine say his name. But he didn't turn back.

Since the settlement didn't really have any sites to speak of, he walked the perimeter. Twice. None of the Vulcans he saw said anything, but he did get some uncomfortable stares. Stares that were a lot like old Vulcan. He got the feeling these Vulcans didn't feel compelled to be polite like the survivors from the homeworld did.

He also saw a few of his crew. He nodded but didn't make small talk. He wasn't really in the mood.

He sat down a few blocks from the settlement's only hospital at a tea shop - most definitely not hoping T'Pring might walk by. Pulling out his PADD he decided to read up on the biodome; just in case she did walk by he'd have something intelligent to say. After two cups of tea, he considered walking into the hospital and saying hello. He would just be there to make sure she was alright.

He was about to stand up when he caught himself. What was this really about? It wasn't really about her, was it? It was about him and wanting to believe that he could have some sort of relationship with a woman that was long past and meant something. That he wasn't really an ass - but here he was, being an ass. She really could be busy. Maybe with work, maybe she had two cute little pointy eared kids and was busy chasing after them, or both..

Picking up his PADD, he was about to head out to the perimeter again when the settlement's alarm sounded. Pushing his comm, he heard the buzz of static and he cursed. Jammed already. Not that he could have called Scotty, but he could have at least tried to warn Spock and company.

He looked down the lane towards the hospital and saw the medics in blue trying to help some elderly Vulcans out of the building towards a hover. There was also a woman. Even at this distance he could tell how elegantly dressed she was...he blinked. It was T'Pring. He took off at a run towards her; in Irak Khio'ri's Vulcan-like gravity it felt like he was jogging in quicksand. He hadn't gone 2 meters when he heard the telltale electrical harmonies of a transporter behind him. He just managed to swear before he was knocked to the ground from behind.

"Starfleet," his universal chirped as someone pressed his face into the ground. "A captain. Comandor Livak will be interested."

The universal translator was snatched from him, and the next thing he knew he was encased in white light.

He emerged in darkness and green - why couldn't this universe's Romulans have cheerful ships like they did in the other universe? Someone nudged him in the back with what felt like a rifle butt.

"This way," said his captor in Standard.

Not seeing any option, Jim complied but kept his eyes open. He committed every passageway to memory and surveyed the Romulan Centurians around him carefully. They weren't quite right. Their uniforms weren't neat, and some of them seemed to be wearing personal effects. He looked at the ship - it definitely belonged to the imperial fleet. Starfleet Intelligence had said that their were initiatives in the Empire to press ordinary Romulans into service - maybe his slightly less-than-to-spec captors were the result.

The hallway opened up and Jim found himself in an empty hangar. In front of him, back turned away, was someone who looked, by the cut of his uniform, to be the head honcho.

Through the hangar the leader's voice rang. "How exquisite you are. And I like your defiance, but I urge you to consider taking me up on my offer. It will be better for everyone if you cooperate."

Jim scowled.

From behind the Romulan leader a familiar voice rang out clear and cold. "Never. I will die first."

His fists were up before he even thought about it, and two sets of Romulan hands were grabbing him on either side.

"Well," said the Romulan leader, "one way or another we all do."

The man moved to the side and Jim saw her. T'Pring's eyes were focused somewhere in the distance, and the Romulan was taking her chin in his hand. Jim knew the disgust she had to be feeling, the invasion of the man's feelings as he touched her.

On instinct he tried to bounce forward, but strong hands held him back. He had no phaser, and couldn't use his fists, but there was one weapon he had left - his mouth. "Yo! Big guy," Jim called. "You call these Centurians?"

Head honcho dropped his hand from T'Pring's cheek and turned.

Jim kept going. "You, my friend, got the bottom of the barrel. I bet I could go into any pisshole bar this side of Romulus, walk into the head, and find better."

A rifle butt wedged into his kidneys. Gasping, Jim fell forward.

"Commander Livak, we thought he'd be of interest to you."

Hanging in the arms of his captors, Jim looked up. "That, was very unprofessional of them," said Jim. "Might I remind you of the rules of treatment of prisoners according to the post Vulcan-Romulus accord?"

"You'll pay for this," said the Commander.

Jim spit on his shoe.

x x x x

"Never. I will die first." When T'Pring said those words she meant them.

Commander Livak's fingers were on her cheek and she caught glimpses of what he intended for her. She wasn't afraid; pain was something she could will away, but she would never give him the pleasure, even if suicide was illogical.

Tulvouk was in the relative safety of the rendezvous point. At Livak's touch he burned with fury. It might be illogical to some to take her own life, but he supported her. He understood, he accepted, and she was grateful.

And then through the hangar James' voice rang out. Livak turned from her and after promising James he "would pay," he ordered guards to escort her to a cell.

Now as she sat alone in the dark, all the variables had changed. James was here. If she took her life she would leave him with these monsters alone. Across the bond Tulvouk was furious - at Livak, at the Romulans, and although he tried to hide it, at James, too.

_This is not your fight, T'Pring._

_It the fight of all of us,_ she replied.

And she knew the logical part of him agreed.

There was one small dim green light in her cell. Retreating from it, she went to the shadows of the far wall, arranged herself in the lotus position, and prepared to meditate. Tulvouk touched her mind and tried to give her what peace he could.

She sat there trying to clear her thoughts for 63.5 minutes when the guards came back with James, half erect between them. He'd struggled when they'd dragged him away. He wasn't struggling now. Alarmed, T'Pring stood. The cell's force field dropped for a moment and they literally threw him in.

He landed face first, and the reek that accompanied him filled the cell. He smelled like the effuse at the bottom of the trash compactor. Holding back her instinct to rush forward, T'Pring ordered her mind to bypass her olfactory neurons.

It was only when the Romulans, departed laughing in their own language, that she was able to go forward without vomiting. Falling to her knees, she put her hands to his temple to survey his condition. Her heart fell. He wasn't suffering from any spinal injuries, but he had cracked ribs, a fractured ankle, and most worrying, internal bleeding.

At her touch, his consciousness stirred, and despite all the pain it _burned_ with determination. He was so broken and yet he still had the will to fight. T'Pring shouldn't have been surprised, but she was.

"Roll me over," James mumbled. "Important."

T'Pring did as he beckoned and James shakily took her hand and pressed it up to his meld points. She felt Tulvouk's unease through his understanding that this could be necessary, but for a moment T'Pring didn't let herself fall. She just stared down at James's face. One eye was swollen shut, the other was puffy and wet, his mouth was red with blood. His golden hair was dirty and brown. He was barely recognizable, yet even as she stared at him she had the sensation of coming home.

The world around her went suddenly darker, and even Tulvouk seemed to vanish. Closing her eyes, she let herself fall into James' mind. They both gasped at the mental touch.

But then he was taking control. Maybe not much time, T'Pring.

His thoughts were ricocheting around his mind, disorderly as usual. _Hyperactive brain, T'Pring. Told you._

_As always, it is fascinating, James. _Familiar in its alienness, and welcome.

Something very bright fired in his mind.

For a moment neither of them thought anything. The air around her seemed heavy and it reminded T'Pring of those minutes she lay beneath him that first time. How they seemed inexorably pulled towards each other.

The memory transferred to James and he almost laughed. Lungs burning, he thought, _Maybe not right now, T'Pring._

His mind stilled and focused. Blinking up at her with his one good eye, he thought, _He - they, did not hurt you - did not touch you? _

_No, _she replied.

That brightness fired in his mind again, but then she felt his teeth grind and caught the taste of iron blood as it slipped across his tongue. _Don't let them know we know each other. They'll use it against us. Understand? _

She understood.

She felt his pain begin to seep around the edges of the meld. She tried to cordon it off again and the world began to go a little green. She blinked and was in the meld and without, feeling his pain, seeing his broken body at the same time that she saw him tumbling beneath the sheets with her, vibrant, alive and healthy.

James was the only thing left of her world _before_ and Livack would take him from her. She forced down the blind fury that threatened to overtake her - and something quite extraordinary happened. An idea germinated in her mind, twisted through her consciousness, and before she could hide it, it blossomed into a great black flower before James.

_No, T'Pring! It's not worth it. If he lays a hand on you...no, no, no. _His rage at Livak obscured every conscious thought.

Down the corridor beyond their pen came the sound of footsteps.

_Get back,_ James said into her mind.

Dropping her hand, stomach falling at lack of contact, T'Pring backed into the shadows at the far end of the cell. She felt that familiar blackness again, and it colored her rage, and then she was grateful to be away, even if it hurt. She needed to be away from him; she needed him out of her _head_ while she decided what to do.

At the loss of James' voice in her head, Tulvouk's suddenly came back, and he saw what she was scheming. _No, T'Pring, no! Even the human rejects it!_

She needed space from _both_ of them. Shutting her eyes, she replied _I must think, _and closed the bond.

Opening her eyes, she saw James' eyes locked on her.

There were the sound of many footsteps, and the rough tones of Romulan. Looking up, she saw four more Starfleet Officers. Unlike James and T'Pring, their hands were bound behind their backs. She recognized them all. Lieutenant Uhura, Spock's _girlfriend_, Dr. Leonard McCoy, a nurse, and Spock.

None of them looked towards her place in the shadows. They only saw James. The doctor and nurse immediately dropped to their knees. "Oh, Jim," the blonde woman said.

Lieutenant Uhura took one look at him and swore in more languages than T'Pring was familiar with. Throwing herself at the invisible barrier of the cell, Uhura let out a scream that sounded more like rage than pain and dropped like a stone as the guards laughed. And then Uhura, too, went forward, walking on her knees, and leaned her head over James.

Only Spock stood. He raised his head and looked in T'Pring's direction. James, too, was staring at her.

She wanted to be near him, wanted to lean down with Uhura, the nurse and the doctor, was jealous that they could do so...but...that idea, that scheme, that black flower in her mind begged to be picked, and they had just given her the ultimate justification and made her choice easy.

**A/N:**

Hmmm...did this chapter jump the shark? So far very few readers seem to think it's fit to review. :-(

I'm working on the next chapter, if you want to keep reading it, you might want to make sure you get an alert. I really think it's heading into M zone now.

Oh yeah, and pls review...it's the only way Notes and I get paid!


	9. Sweet Judith Part 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Special thanks to beta Notes from the Classroom. Check out her latest, "The Survivors" in my faves.

A/N: The Colony T'Pring was on wasn't New Vulcan. It was an older, more remote, and definitely smaller! I'm sure Spock!Prime wouldn't put New Vulcan anywhere close to Romulans or Klingons. Some people suggested New Vulcan wouldn't be so easy to exploit, and I agree completely.

**Sweet Judith Part 2**

Nyota heard the guards laughing behind her as she crawled forward on her knees, her hands bound behind her back.

Jim lay on the floor, his limbs askew like a rag doll. He reeked. And his face was almost unrecognizable. What they had done to him was so brutal she couldn't even be afraid, and she started to cry out of sheer rage - hers and Spock's. One of her tears slipped down her cheek and landed on his forehead.

Jim didn't even look up. His eyes were focused in the darkness at the back of the cell.

_Wariness_ flooded the bond. Nyota looked to Spock. His eyes were focused on the darkness, too. _Someone is there,_ he thought.

And then a pale, beautiful Vulcan woman with delicate features stepped forward. She wore elegant robes, her dark hair was neat and upswept, and her hands were unbound. She was the picture of Vulcan decorum and she was looking down at Jim with the cold detachment of a scientist observing a laboratory specimen.

Was she too perfect to get her hands dirty? A string of swears were out of Nyota's mouth before she could stop herself.

_It is T'Pring_, thought Spock, and Nyota's eyes widened.

"No," mumbled Jim, his eyes locked on T'Pring's. "No."

"Human...rabble..." T'Pring said, her voice so low it was almost a hiss.

Nyota felt Spock go cold with shock and surprise.

T'Pring looked sharply at Spock and then walked past them all, not glancing down at Jim once. "Guards, get me out of here. I will take the commander up on his offer."

Spock blinked. Confusion flooded the bond. He had no love for T'Pring, but..._This is not like her._

Nyota felt his mind racing.

Stepping forward, Leo said, "Why you ungrateful Vulcan bitch. After all..." but Spock stepped in front of him and whispered, "Doctor, hush."

Leo blinked and drew back. "What? You heard her! How can you..." But he stopped talking. Nyota _felt _Spock projecting, ordering Leo mentally to desist - not to give away that he knew T'Pring. The effort left Spock feeling physically winded, and she could see him start to breathe heavily.

Christine looked like she was about to take up where Leo left off, but Nyota shook her head.

"No," whispered Jim. "No, don't let her..."

When Nyota looked down at Jim, the pieces of the conversation T'Pring was having with the guards began to fall into place. Nyota looked to the Vulcan woman.

Leering at T'Pring, one of the guards said, "What made you change your mind?" Licking his lips he added, "Vulcan bitch."

Nyota's eyes went back to Jim. Watching T'Pring silently, he was shaking his head.

_Should we stop her? _Nyota asked Spock through the bond.

Turning and eyeing the team, T'Pring said, "I did not realize I would be forced to die with these...humans."

Spock's stomach fell with Nyota's. Neither of them knew what was the right thing to do. What she was doing - if she was doing what they both thought she was doing, could be suicidal. It was definitely horrific. And definitely brave.

"_It could be a trick," _one of the guards whispered. _"Take her to the commander. Let him decide," _said the other. There was more whispering that Nyota could not make out.

"Don't let her," Jim was whispering. "Don't let her."

The electric barrier fell and one of the guards came forward. He dragged T'Pring out roughly by the arm and there was the sound of static and a shimmer as the invisible curtain crackled back into place.

"No!" said Jim, and before Nyota could stop him, he heaved himself up and ran at the invisible wall. As he crumpled to the ground with a loud moan, T'Pring did not even look back.

x x x x

The first hurdle had been passed. With Spock's help, she hadn't given away her relationship to Jim or the other Starfleet officers. And when Jim threw himself against the wall, she hadn't even flinched.

At the end of the cell block they bound T'Pring's hands behind her back with the same polyfiber bonds on the others. T'Pring had expected her hands be bound. She was surprised they hadn't done so earlier - that Vulcans were touch telepaths was well known, as was the effectiveness of the Vulcan nerve pinch and the power of mind melds. Perhaps James was right when he colorfully alluded to the fact that these Centurians weren't up to the professional standards of their peers?

They ran their fingers lasciviously over T'Pring's as they bound her. It was deeply annoying and she had to concentrate to keep her shields up, but it was also hopeful. They didn't understand the danger.

But she still had other worries as they led her through the ship's corridors. She had a plan, but it depended on seducing Livak. It was drastic. It was humiliating, too, to give in after swearing to deny Livak the pleasure. But to have James and four other beings lose their lives, that was worse than physical pain - which she was mentally disciplined enough to ignore, and what was only logically a simple exchange of bodily fluids. She'd pushed past her revulsion. Now she was primarily concerned with the fact she did not have the slightest idea of what she was doing.

For the first time she began to wish she had not skirted around Tulvouk's memories of his Pon Farr with Kala, the Orion. It never seemed like useful data; now, on the other hand...

_Tulvouk, please, _she begged through the bond, trying to remain completely stoic outwardly. _Show me._

_I cannot, T'Pring. End this._

_The needs of the many, Tulvouk._

_You do not know what you are doing, T'Pring._

_So _help_ me._

A tangled knot of emotions flowed through the bond. He was ashamed of himself, of his time with Kala, and of his inability to help her now.

The guards stopped before an ornate double door. It slid open and T'Pring blinked. But not at the light flooding through - at Tulvouk's emotions. He was _ashamed _of her. Because some sacrifices evidently went so far they were illogical.

T'Pring did not agree.

Her eyes adjusted to the light. They appeared to be outside of Livak's personal quarters. There was a wide bed and bookshelves. Livak was sitting at an overly ornate desk that any Vulcan would have found impractical.

"Well, well," he said. "At last, a rare and much coveted Vulcan female. And a fine specimen, too."

It was precisely at that moment that Tulvouk withdrew. He was still there, but only a light flickering presence.

She would be doing this completely on her own.

T'Pring shivered and Livak smiled. It struck her that a smile on a Romulan was more disquieting than the smile of a human - very out of place in his Vulcan like features.

"Bring her here," said Livak.

The guards pushed her roughly and T'Pring stumbled forward. She swallowed. She was reasonably sure stumbling was not seductive. She took a breath. She didn't have Tulvouk. She didn't have memories of his time with Kala. All she had was James.

Straightening herself, for the first time she noticed the objects upon his desk. A PADD, a knife, and a pale blue beverage in a tall glass goblet. The knife and the PADD did not disturb her - but the liquid in the glass, if she were intoxicated and unable to concentrate. Her eyes lingered on it as her heart sank to her hip.

"Do you want this, beautiful?" said Livak. Smiling, he picked it up and took a deep sip. "It would make it easier for you. But I think I'd prefer for you to be fully cognizant of what is about to happen. I want you to know..." He picked up the knife and used the dull edge to stroke her cheek. "Who it is who is marking you."

T'Pring's eyes widened as her heart leapt with hope.

Livak laughed. "Leave us!" he commanded the guards, not waiting for them to leave to touch her face. When he touched her in the hangar she'd caught quick glimpses of his mind and had quickly erected her shields in disgust. Now she let him in. It wasn't a mind meld so she only caught random images, impressions and emotions. He was on an adrenaline high, he was aroused, and he was slightly intoxicated. But there was something else...

She had fully intended to give him her body completely. She reasoned that with climax his mind would empty, he'd enter that state James referred to as "afterglow," and she'd project emotions telepathically to convince him to unbind her. After that it would be easy. But now from the glimpse she saw at his touch she realized she might not have to submit to him.

When James touched her it was exciting but disorienting. Human brains processed inputs in a parallel fashion, not in a linear order like Vulcans predominantly did. That was why Humans were sometimes able to know things without knowing how they knew them, and why James' thoughts, in his fascinating description, seemed to pop around his brain like a ping-pong ball on Lysergic acid diethylamide. The random nature of human thought and emotions meant controlling humans minds was more difficult.

T'Pring had expected Romulan brains to be like a humans, or even like Spock's which displayed features of both races. After all, Romulans were not telepathic, and they were given to the ways of excess and emotion. But she was wrong.

Livak's mind was powerful - even from his touch she could tell that. He could undoubtedly speak any language he chose to set his mind to. He could perform complex mathematics in his head. But his thought process was linear, and easy to navigate like a Vulcans, but without Vulcan telepathic shields.

He would be more helpless than a Vulcan child, or even a Human. Something like dark glee welled at this realization. Closing her eyes, she projected this feeling to Livak.

Dropping his hand, he stepped back. His smile was gone. "That excites you, beautiful?"

Lifting her eyes to his, T'Pring stepped forward. He wasn't touching her, but he was close enough for projection to work, and he was distracted by lust and inebriation. She remembered that feeling when she was with James that first time, of their bodies being drawn inexorably together as though pulled by gravity - and she planted that feeling in Livak's mind. It wasn't easy. The effort made her breathe heavily, and her mouth fell open just a fraction.

Livak's mouth dropped. He tilted his head and swallowed. "Vulcan men, they do not satisfy you, do they? You want to be here..."

T'Pring nodded, but was so focused on sending her emotions to him she could not speak.

Stepping forward, Livak reached up in a smooth motion and cut her robes from neck to waist. They hung on her shoulders, her front completely bare. For a moment the cold air on her skin made her disoriented.

Livak drew back.

Dropping her head, T'Pring thought of James, of blackness, of Vulcan love. The effort made her breathe heavy. Livak gasped and stepped closer.

"My boots," T'Pring whispered, raising one leg, hoping she could get his temples closer to her hands.

He fell to his knees,and began to unhook the raised boot with trembling hands. His head was so close to her fingers...

His hand on her boot stopped. Closing her eyes, T'Pring remembered her last night with James. How he'd kept her hands trapped to the sheets, saying, "Uh, uh, no cheating." She remembered James dragging his head down her stomach, nipping at her and licking, forcing her knees apart with his elbows, even as he kept her fingers trapped to the sheets. It was deviant; she'd fought him and lost. Wonderfully lost. She used her eidetic memory to relive every sensation she'd felt in excruciating detail as James' head had dipped between her thighs, and she used the telepathic center of her brain to propel those sensations to Livak.

With a deep intake of air he dropped the boot he was working on and pressed his head to her stomach. He began murmuring in Romulan and his hands wrapped behind her back and took hold of her fingers.

The connection was deep and instant; it was as though Vulcans were made to invade Romulan minds. She wasn't reading his thoughts, but she was reading his emotions easily - the fool was feeling that blackness, that Vulcan love, or Romulan as the case might be. And it was incredibly easy for her to hide her disgust from him.

Thinking of James, of the feeling she'd had in his foyer that last morning, of Vulcan love, of wanting to be united permanently, in all ways forever, she whispered, "Release my hands."

Livak murmured words in Romulan and turned her around, gently, reverently. T'Pring heard him pick up the knife, and then felt her bindings fall. One set of fingers immediately went back to hers. With the other hand he turned her back around.

She didn't even have to try to bring her hands to his temple. He pressed his head into her hands and she could see his mind. How much he adored her. Loved her. "I have found my home," he whispered up to her.

T'Pring looked down at him and was overcome by rage. Twisting her fingers onto his meld points, she flooded his mind with the memory of James' face when he'd greeted her in the hangar after her planet's destruction, eyes wet and smile wide.

Livak's lifted his eyes to her in shock. Before he was fully cognizant of what was happening,T'Pring applied a nerve pinch to his neck.

He fell, as the humans would say, like a stone.

Taking a deep breath, T'Pring squatted beside him. It was time for the part she anticipated would be worse than any rape could ever be.

x x x x

"Why did you let her go?" Jim asked, his body convulsing slightly.

Nyota's head was pressed against him on one side, Christine was lying next to him on the other. He'd been in and out of consciousness since T'Pring left. He was feverish and shivering at the same time and they were doing their best to keep him warm.

Nyota swallowed, and she felt Spock cringe inwardly. Why didn't they stop her? Because she was an adult, with free will? Or because they didn't want to give away what seemed to be their best hope of escape?

"Shhhh..." said Nyota, because Jim should save his strength, or maybe just to ease her conscience.

T'Pring left hours ago, and there has been no word from her. T'Pring couldn't have known what she was getting into, and more likely than not it was all for naught. They should have stopped her.

"Guards?" mumbled Jim. His mind seemed unable to focus now, and Nyota was grateful.

"Hush," said Christine.

"Tell me," mumbled Jim.

Knowing he wouldn't shut up unless he knew, Nyota said, "Gone."

"Fucking amateurs," said Jim.

Nyota swallowed. They were amateurs and they might be the death of them. They were almost 20 hours away from check in with the _Enterprise_. Communications had gone down almost instantly when their Romulan "friends" arrived; there had been no time to sound any alarm. It gave her an uncomfortable sense of _deja vu_. Across the bond she felt Spock echo the sentiment.

She looked over Jim's body at Spock. He was sitting back to back with Leo. Leo had been keeping an old fashioned key to his vacation home in Georgia around his neck. Spock was using it to try and cut through their bonds.

"I should help them with that," Jim said. Nyota knew he was talking about Spock and Leo, but he didn't even lift his head in their direction. He was so weak that even with unbound hands the effort was better left to Spock.

"You should keep your mouth shut and save your strength," said Leo, and then he turned his head, quickly to Spock and said, "Ouch! Damn it man, I'm a doctor not an escape artist!"

Nyota felt Spock's confusion. He hadn't even scraped Leo with the key. _ He's just blowing off steam, _Nyota explained silently.

A shiver wracked Jim's body and Nyota and Christine both tucked themselves closer. Spock did not even flinch - even Vulcans could let go of their territorial instincts a little bit. They'd been through so much together, all of them, but Spock, Nyota and Jim most of all. The body swap, and Altos-5, too.

_You forgot about the sex pollen incident,_ Spock said through the bond. _He was the only person who resisted._

Nyota almost smiled. Spock was reminiscing to keep her mind off of their situation - and it worked a little and made Nyota's eyes sting.

"Sheesh," mumbled Jim. "If I knew...all I needed to do...for a threesome...with two hottest officers...was ...get tortured...by Romulans..."

Christine knocked her forehead against Jim's a bit too forcefully. Leo gave an exasperated sigh, and Spock raised an eyebrow. They'd all known him long enough to know he wasn't serious; he just took making light of incidents like_ torture_ as part of managing morale and part of his Captainly duties.

And the thing was, it worked. She felt Spock relax just a fraction and felt the beginnings of a tight smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

The morale boost died as the bond went cold with Spock's unease. Nyota could hear nothing, but Spock's more sensitive hearing was registering something in the ceiling over the cooridor outside the cell. Halting his efforts to file away at Leo's bonds he tilted his head. "Something is not right."

**A/N:**

Whew! That bit in the middle was hard to write. I hope it doesn't seem that T'Pring got off too easily. The "ease" of her escape fits into my larger universe and Vulcan/Romulan relations. Too naughty? Should I skim some sentences?

Did you read? Did you enjoy? Not? Leave a review and let me know!


	10. Sweet Judith Part 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Thanks to everyone reviewing, it helps me and Notes keep going. Speaking of...

Special thanks to Beta Notes from the Classroom. Be sure to check out her latest "The Survivors" in my faves.

**Sweet Judith Part III**

"The air duct in the corridor," someone said. Maybe it was Spock. Maybe it was Bones. Jim wasn't really sure.

He tilted his head backwards from where he lay on the floor. It hurt. Everything hurt. And he swore something was twisting in his gut. Literally. He was too hot and he was freezing and the smell of the sludge they'd dipped him must have been burned into his nostrils because something reeked. Maybe it was him. But Uhura and Christine were pressed so closely to him to keep him warm - that had to be the definition of above and beyond the call of duty.

Seeing a shadow slip from the ceiling to the floor, he shivered and whispered "T'Pring."

It was the first thing that slipped out of his mouth. It wasn't something he reasoned or knew; maybe it was just something he hoped.

But then Spock said, "It is T'Pring." And Jim was trying to get to his feet, Uhura and Christine beside him.

Sounding as though she were very far away, T'Pring said, "I have access codes, some weapons, and have memorized the layout of the ship. I came through the air duct system, but I do not think we can take Mr. Kirk through them in his condition."

There was a blur and she was inside the cell, a knife in her hand, and the knife was green. She went to Spock and cut his bonds. Handing the knife to Spock's free hands, she said, "We need to leave quickly. In 19.5 minutes they have another round of questioning scheduled - for all of you."

Coming over to Jim she touched his temples as Spock freed the others. Jim's knees fell out from under him and for a moment he thought it was the meld, but an instant later he was in her arms and he realized he'd actually fallen.

"Sepsis," T'Pring was saying, "from an implant near his intestines," and Bones was saying something back.

But Jim couldn't think about it. For the first time he was aware of her clothing. A Romulan tunic thrown over her shoulders and belted at the middle was all she wore. Her hair was loose and disheveled.

Jim felt heat cut through the haze of his fever. "I'll kill him," Jim said. "I'll kill him."

"There is no need," said T'Pring, slipping under one of James' arms. One of T'Pring's hands went around his waist, the other slipped into his hand resting on her shoulder. And there _she_ was. He could feel _her _in the connection. His pain seemed to diminish. She was alive. They were alive.

"How long until Livak awakes and alerts others to our presence?" said Spock.

"He is dead," said T'Pring, and through that link Jim felt shame and confusion.

"Are you sure he's dead?" Jim asked, furious, because if he wasn't Jim was going to find a way to make sure he was.

There was that shame again. "Yes," she said, pulling Jim out into the corridor. "I slit his throat."

And that kind of pissed Jim off because it meant he couldn't kill Livak - and why was everyone suddenly staring at her? And why was she ashamed? She shouldn't feel any shame. If anyone should feel shame, it was Jim because he hadn't been able to protect her. He should have faced Livak again, not her.

"My medical bag is at the guard station," T'Pring said, and Spock was jumping up into the air conduit and pulling down some weapons. At least that's what Jim thought he was doing, but maybe he only imagined it, because he suddenly found himself being pulled down the corridor.

And the shame was still there. And T'Pring shouldn't feel shame. Squeezing her hand, he whispered, "Sweet Judith."

Pulling him along beside her, T'Pring whispered, "James, I believe you are mistaking me for someone else."

And Jim laughed and squeezed her hand. Some things never changed. "I would never mistake you for anyone else. Judith was -"

But then there was phaser fire whizzing by his nose and he was cut off. Bones was under his other arm, and between Bones and T'Pring Jim's feet barely touched the ground. He felt like he was flying.

Jim might have mumbled something about two personal physicians, and doctors knowing anatomy. As Christine, Uhura and Spock let loose on Romulan phasers, Jim was sure that Bones told him to shut up. Which was good. He could _feel _T'Pring was focused on staying alive and not feeling ashamed, which was also good.

And then T'Pring was gone and back and hitting his neck with a hypo, and the world began to come into sharp clear focus, and damn he hurt. He wasn't going to be able to put weight on one of his legs, and one wrist was probably shot, but the pain in his gut was slightly better.

"Do you have a plan?" Bones was saying as Spock took phaser rifles from two Romulan guards.

"No," T'Pring said.

Spock tried to hand one of the rifles to T'Pring. Shaking her head, she said, "I do not know how to use it."

Leaning on T'Pring, Jim grabbed the phaser rifle with his free hand and set the switch to kill with his teeth. "We get to the transporter room," he said, a plan forming in his mind. "We use this ship's subspace channel to alert the _Enterprise_, and we beam out of here."

"This ship has _Narada_ class weaponry and shields," said T'Pring.

Shit. Well. "So does the _Enterprise_," said Jim, checking the rifle's sights.

"The _Enterprise's _new sheilding and torpedoes are only prototypes, Captain," said Spock. "And we only have three of the torpedoes."

And the _Enterprise_ was the only ship that had them. Even with the knowledge of old Spock, the basic materials needed to create such weaponry were not easily available in this century. Not yet. Mass production of Neroesque firepower and shields had not yet begun.

"They'll work," said Jim, because thinking otherwise wouldn't do anyone a damn bit of good.

Uhura was standing near the corridor looking side to side. One side of her uniform looked singed. If it was bad she wasn't commenting on it. Meeting his eyes she said, "Clear."

T'Pring slipped under his arm again and grabbed his hand. Jim squeezed, it. "You lead the way, Baby," he said without thinking. She didn't correct him and he _felt _her acknowledgement. She walked forward with him hopping along beside her.

For things being so abysmally down the dilithium drain, everything felt strangely right.

Of course, things _weren't _right, but he couldn't think about that.

A few minutes later Spock was slithering through an airduct. Coming back he said, "Only two technicians in the transporter room, and unarmed. T'Pring and I can incapacitate them with a nerve pinch."

T'Pring said, "I cannot touch anyone right now." And that really brought it home; things _weren't _right.

Jim couldn't comfort her. He couldn't even look at her. If he turned his head they'd be pretty much kissing, they were so close. Instead he just said, "Spock, get one. Bones, hypo the other."

And he couldn't comfort her after Bones and Spock incapacitated the technicians. He was too busy guarding the door with Bones and Christine while Uhura hacked into the subspace array to send a message to the _Enterprise _and Spock set the transporter to auto beam.

And when they beamed onto the _Enterprise's _bridge_, _the ship still at midwarp, he couldn't say anything either. Obviously. He was falling into his chair and barking orders as they reached the colony. Taking care of his ship was his job and he couldn't abandon it. Not for T'Pring. Not for anyone.

The _Enterprise _took a few rounds and gave a few rounds and things could actually have been worse, but then two other Romulan vessels pulled up. The new Romulan ships didn't fire and Jim got a feeling in the pit of his stomach that was worse than if they had.

From her station, Uhura said, "Priority one call from Starfleet."

And Jim got a really bad feeling.

"On screen," he said.

Admiral Komack was suddenly in front of his eyes, obviously in San Francisco, and beside him was a Romulan guy who looked important.

They were ordered to stand down.

x x x x

When they materialized on the _Enterprise's_ bridge the first thing James said was, "Put me in the chair."

James was so focused. The erratic ping-pong nature of his mind completely gone T'Pring was quite intrigued, but obviously it wasn't the time to comment.

As soon as she sat him down, the ship rocked. Nurse Chapel was by her side. "Come on, we have to get to sickbay," she said, steadying T'Pring with an arm. She didn't touch any bare skin and T'Pring was grateful.

In the sick bay, Nurse Chapel wrapped a blanket around T'Pring.

"Thank you," the nurse said.

T'Pring blinked and then the ship rocked again and a roar sounded in her ears. Someone shouted, "Incoming wounded!" and Nurse Chapel dropped her hands from the blanket and ran to a station across the room.

T'Pring didn't offer to help. The medical crew worked with the efficiency of a well calibrated machine; she was certain she'd only get in the way. And her control was still weak.

Lights were flashing and alarms were beeping. She needed to meditate, and she couldn't here. She pulled the blanket tight around her and tried to attract as little attention as possible.

Wounded poured into the sickbay, and the ship rocked. There was the sound of explosions that T'Pring imagined were torpedoes against shields.

And then, the explosions stopped. The ship was still. A few medical personnel who were not hovering over patients looked around - their eyes wide, their mouths slightly open

T'Pring thought it was a look of worry. But why would they be worried if they were seemingly out of danger?

On an intercom in the wall, James' voice crackled. "_Attention all crew members, this is the Captain. We have been ordered by Starfleet to stand down. The Romulan empire is _graciously_ allowing us to evacuate the colony. We will be aided by Starfleet's Sugihara and Nightingale; they will be here within thirty minutes. In the meantime we will be beaming up only the most critically wounded."_

There were murmurs around the sickbay, but they were drowned out by Dr. McCoy's voice. "Well, someone is going to be very pissed."

T'Pring's jaw tightened. Only someone? Her vision went green. They were evacuating their world - the world they _created_.

She said nothing, of course, just watched as Dr. McCoy headed for the doors saying, "I'm going to go get the maniac."

A nurse shouted, "Stand aside, survivors from the planet are beaming in now!"

Before T'Pring's eyes, her fellow Vulcans started to materialize. 3.5 minutes later and James came through the door on a stretcher, flanked by McCoy, and Spock who was supporting Lieutenant Uhura.

James was shouting from the bed, "This is not a strategic retreat, Spock! This is the Nazis in the Rhineland! You've got to believe that."

"I do believe that, Captain," said Spock calmly.

A nurse came for Lieutenant Uhura and Spock said nothing, but he slid his fingers over the Lieutenant's as they parted. It only confirmed what T'Pring already knew from the way they moved together so smoothly on the Romulan vessel, two parts of a whole, separated but never separated. Still, it was still shocking. Spock had never been so openly affectionate when T'Pring was bonded to him.

"We'll be at war within a year!" James said, his face very red.

"I do not disagree, Captain," Spock said.

"That's enough, Jim," said Doctor McCoy. "I'm sorry, but we've got to put you under _now._"

Looking around the room, James said, "Wait, a minute, Bones." His eyes briefly met T'Pring's, but a hypo was already at his neck and he fell backwards.

Several nurses began pulling a screen around his bed and T'Pring could see nothing.

Putting his hands behind his back, Spock stared at the curtain 15.3 seconds, and he walked over to stand before Lieutenant Uhura, his back to T'Pring. The Lieutenant met his eyes and then looked in T'Pring's direction and nodded at her.

T'Pring froze. What did it mean? A challenge? She did not nod back lest she inadvertently agree to some violent alien contest for Spock's attentions; she'd never heard of such a thing among humans, but there were so many human cultures she wasn't certain. And if the Lieutenant wanted Spock, she was welcome to him.

T'Pring turned her gaze back to the screen which concealed Jim's surgery. They would be removing the Romulan torture implant now. T'Pring suspected it had cut into his intestines when they inserted it, hence the sepsis. It was supposed to go in his heart, but his heart was in the wrong place. Or the right place in this case.

From her side a nurse said, "Ma'am, I am sorry. Would you please come with me?"

"No," said T'Pring. She wanted to be here during the surgery.

Swallowing, the nurse said, "We have protocols in situations like these. We need to perform an examination -"

"An examination is not necessary," said T'Pring. She understood; the nurse sought to examine and treat her for sexually transmitted diseases and possible physical injury. T'Pring didn't want to discuss it further.

"Ma'am," said the nurse. "Please, if we don't..."

A few of the Vulcans in the room turned to look. T'Pring suddenly felt more exposed than she had naked in front of Livak.

"There is no need for an examination," said T'Pring again. Not the physical kind anyway.

"Ma'am," the nurse said again. "You may be in shock-"

"If she said an examination is not necessary, an examination is not necessary," said Spock.

The nurse froze. So did T'Pring.

Dipping her head forward, the nurse said, "Yes, sir," and then walked quickly away.

T'Pring's eyes met her former bondmate's. This was singly the greatest kindness he'd ever bestowed upon her.

"The Captain is in good hands, T'Pring," Spock said. "What do _you_ need?"

T'Pring swallowed. Her ears were filled with the erratic beep and whirring of machinery. A few of her fellow Vulcans were still looking at her. She could not see James' surgery - or help even if she could. To stay was illogical.

"I need to meditate," she said. "Someplace quiet - and private."

Spock nodded. "Come with me."

T'Pring stared at him a moment, and then looked over at Lieutenant Uhura.

The human woman was cradling her side. She met T'Pring's eyes and nodded again. Beside T'Pring, Spock said softly, "She insists that I help you. You are not stepping on anyone's toes."

Confused, T'Pring looked down at her feet.

"Excuse me," said Spock. "She finds my offering you assistance to be logical. In fact, if I do not, I will never hear the end of it."

Ah, _stepping on toes_ was an expression. He used it so easily - of course he always understood such things more quickly than she. He used to say figures of speech were illogical. She had always found them so interesting - and any part of his humanity she found intriguing he seemed to want to quash even more.

Confused, she tilted her head. Was he trying to help her or trying to show her how much more clever he was? It was like him to be cruel without provocation.

She swallowed. Not accepting his help would put her at the mercy of strangers. She looked to Uhura. The woman nodded at her again.

"Come," said Spock, ushering her towards the door.

T'Pring followed his hand.

They walked in silence to the turbolift, many crew members passing them as they did. T'Pring could have reached out for Tulvouk - she could feel that he was safe. Reconnecting the bond was the first step to healing, but he had not helped her before. It was stubbornness, but she did not want his help now.

It was only when they were alone in the lift that Spock spoke. "All of our guest quarters are now occupied, but the Captain's quarters will be empty. You may have his. He will be in sickbay until we reach New Vulcan."

T'Pring tilted her head. "I will not be-" She licked her lips. "Stepping on his toes?" she said. The strange expression rolled awkwardly off her tongue, but she would not let Spock make her feel inferior.

Spock was silent for a moment. "I have been in his head, T'Pring. I can tell you, the only way you will ever step on his toes is in the strictly literal sense."

The door opened and T'Pring stared at Spock for a moment, trying to parse his words. He'd been in James' head. He probably knew about her experiences with him. She wasn't ashamed of her behavior, but she did not like him knowing.

Spock held out a hand for her to exit. She did and he fell into step beside her.

"Would my _asenoi _be helpful?" he said, referring to the traditional firepot used for meditation.

"We could stop by my quarters. They are on the way."

"No," said T'Pring. It had been a long day - one that she was trying very hard not to think about, not to ruminate on until she could be alone. And now she was left with Spock who had filled her mind with his distaste for her for 14 years. She wanted to escape as soon as possible.

They stopped at a door at the end of a hallway. Spock entered an access code and ushered her in.

The first thing that hit her was how much it smelled like James - like coffee, and the liquid he put on his face after shaving. She looked to the left and there was a bookshelf with real books - some of them she remembered him having in his dorm on Vulcan. She and her mother had been impressed.

And there was his coffee maker. She tilted her head. No, not the same one. Approaching it slowly, she ran her fingers over it anyway.

"He has some decaf - decaffeinated coffee that is quite good," Spock said. "If you like I will show you how -"

"That is quite alright," said T'Pring, wishing he would just leave.

Nodding, Spock touched a narrow door. "This is the sanitary cubicle. There is a sonic and water shower."

T'Pring tilted her head but did not move.

"Is there anything you need, T'Pring?" Spock asked.

"To be left alone," she said.

Inclining his head, he said, "Of course." He took a step to the door and turned. "T'Pring, thank you."

T'Pring tilted her head. After all these years - and even the events of the day, she still felt wary around him.

"If you did not do what you had done, my bondmate and I, Dr. McCoy, Christine and the Captain..." He tilted his head. "We are all in your debt. I am in your debt."

T'Pring stared at him. He was actually being kind to her. She inclined her head but said nothing.

Spock hit the door button and she realized he might know something and might actually explain.

"Spock," she said taking a step forward. "Who is Judith?"

Turning, Spock raised an eyebrow - or one of his eyebrows rose of its own accord. He was always more expressive than a Vulcan. "The Captain was, I believe, referring to Judith of the Old Testament. Her tribe, the Israelites, were under attack and she befriended and beguiled their leader with her charms and then beheaded him. With their leader killed, the Israelites' enemies dispersed. She was greatly revered by her people and was frequently depicted in artwork for centuries afterwards."

T'Pring straightened. It was an imperfect metaphor. The enemies of her people had come forward in force, and...

"I only slit his throat," she said. "And it was logical." Looking down, she said. "I needed to kill him - and did not want our enemies to know we can kill telepathically."

"T'Pring, I am absolutely certain if you believe it was logical, it was."

Shocked by the compliment, T'Pring looked up. He had taken a step towards her. Raising two fingers, he said, "If you require help centering yourself for meditation, I will assist."

T'Pring stared at his fingers. She could not bring herself to touch them. Not because of who he was, but what she was. It might have been logical to kill Livak, but what she had wanted to do to him before she killed him was not. And what she'd seen - it was ingrained in her eidetic memory, and she felt stained. She did not want it to touch anyone else.

Still staring at his fingers she said, "No, thank you. Please, just leave me in peace."

Putting his hands behind his back, Spock said, "Very well. If you need anything, I am at your disposal." Dipping his head once, he turned and left.

Letting herself crumble to the floor and into lotus position, T'Pring tried to will herself into meditation. Not surprisingly, it did not come.

Standing, she cast off the blanket, which by now was starting to smell like the Romulan tunic she wore. She threw both down the garbage chute. Then she went into the sanitary cubicle and turned the sonic shower to high power. There was a heater in the cubicle. She turned that to high, too. 32 minutes later she turned both off, feeling warm and clean on the outside at least.

As she expected, James' robe was hanging on the back of the sanitary cubicle's door. Wrapping it over her shoulders and cinching it at the waist, she walked out into his quarters. She didn't try to meditate or sleep - at this point she craved both but knew if she sought either too actively, they wouldn't come.

Instead she went over and sat at the small desk in the main living area of James' quarters. As she sat down, the desk shifted slightly and a small holo that sat on the corner lit up.

Shimmering upwards came the words Altos-5 stardate 2264 and then the holo changed to the image of a small human boy with blonde hair and blue eyes holding some sort of ribbon and smiling broadly. He was alien, and gorgeous, and exactly as T'Pring imagined James would look as a child - but of course the date put the holo 6 years after the fall of Vulcan.

Across the room came the quick chime of the door. T'Pring looked up just as it opened. There was James looking very unsteady on his feet.

"Dr. McCoy would not let you out of sickbay in your condition," T'Pring said.

"No," said James stepping forward. The door closed behind him. Unsmiling, his eyes went to the holo she held in her hand.

"Who is he?" T'Pring asked, touching where the cheek of the boy would be if he were solid.

James let out a breath, and T'Pring looked up to find him meeting her eyes. His jaw very tight, he said, "That is my son."

**A/N:**

Yep, trouble on Altos-5, alright. The whole story is in "The Good Father", but it isn't necessary to read it to enjoy this story.

Please, if you read and enjoyed, or didn't...leave a review! It's the only way Notes and I get paid.


	11. Tilt

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Thanks to everyone who is reviewing - you and Notes keep me going. Speaking of Notes, her latest, "The Survivors", is turning into quite the sniffle inducer. I highly recomend it - check it out in my faves.

**Tilt**

Jim was dreaming. It was the same dream he always had after he got beat up. He was 6 or 7 and Frank, his stepfather, was heaving him against a wall. All the air was blasted out of him, and he could feel the bruises forming along his spine. But suddenly it wasn't him, it was Jimmy Nowak, the little boy who was his son. The son he'd abandoned. Who now lived on Altos 5 with Magda, his mother, and her new husband.

Jerking awake, Jim found himself amid the too familiar beeps and whines of sickbay monitors, his forehead damp with sweat.

Jimmy Nowak's stepfather wasn't Frank, and Jim wasn't his mother - Jim hadn't abandoned Jimmy on purpose, but it took effort to remind himself of that.

Focus. He had to focus.

He took a deep breath and it only hurt a little bit. Mostly his body felt numb, except for the sensation of the prickle of needles in his side beneath the dermoplast. It would be nice if he could tell himself that he'd lived through worse than what had happened on the Romulan ship. He closed his eyes and saw the room, and the sludge. If T'Pring hadn't -

He opened his eyes quickly. One thing being an abused kid gave you was the power of strategic forgetfulness. Most of the time.

Raising his body, he looked around. There were plenty of Vulcan survivors in sickbay, but no T'Pring.

Coming up next to him, Christine said, "You're awake."

"What's the status of the ship?" Jim said.

"We're on the way to New Vulcan along with the _Nightingale_ and _Sugihara_. Warp 3 because our skirmish with the Romulans damaged the warp drive. Spock's at the helm."

Jim reached for his comm and glanced at the messages. There was an email from Spock that just said, "She requested privacy and quiet; I gave her your quarters."

Bolting upright, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Where do you think you're going?" said Christine.

"To see T'Pring," said Jim. He never got a chance to thank T'Pring, to see if she was alright. Well, of course, she wasn't alright. But he never got a chance to hold her, to tell her things _would_ be alright, or at least better.

"No, you're not," said Christine.

Jim met her eyes. "Come on, Chris," he said very softly. "You know I'd step aside for you."

Her expression softened. Bending down, she pulled a pair of pants and a black undershirt from a drawer by the bed. "They should fit. Your clothes went down the garbage chute."

She pulled the curtain, but Jim was already slipping them on under the gown he wore.

A few minutes later he was clutching his side and standing outside of his door, wavering on his feet and catching his breath. He had no idea what he was going to say.

The thought of Livak touching T'Pring's face made him feel sick, the thought of him defiling her - his sweet, innocent T'Pring.

His stomach coiled in knots, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

But of course she wasn't sweet or innocent; there was steel underneath her exterior. And he'd sort of known that, hadn't he? The way she turned him down in the garden - he'd been in Spock's head; he knew that strange, frightening emotion he felt the morning she tried to bond with him was "Vulcan love." Spock felt it for Uhura. T'Pring felt it for Jim, but she'd turned him away anyway. More than once, really.

Maybe he shouldn't go through that door. Maybe he was pouring salt on old wounds?

Shaking his head, he hit the access code.

The door whooshed open and there she was. She was sitting at his desk, wrapped in _his_ robe - just like after Vulcan fell. It was too large and made her look small and frail. But she wasn't frail. She could turn a man on and slit his throat - and it really shouldn't, but that thought was making him go warm in some really good ways.

And then he blinked, and his eyes went to the holo in front of her. His holo. The one on his desk. His stomach fell. He didn't deserve her love, Vulcan or otherwise.

Her eyes met his. "Dr. McCoy would not let you out of sickbay in your condition."

"No," said Jim, for a moment hoping she would say nothing about the holo - and bizarrely wanting her to say something about it, too.

Obeying his hopes and realizing his fears, her eyes went back to the little boy in the shimmering light. Stroking his glowing cheek, as Jim had on not too few occasions, she said, "Who is he?"

Jim's jaw got tight. 

Jim knew his other self's life very well; he'd seen it in the other Spock's mind. That man was greater than Jim had ever thought he'd be. Except for one flaw, one mistake that Jim promised himself he would never make. Little did he know when he made that promise the mistake had already been made. A year before he entered the Academy, Jim met a girl at a bar. She was very sweet, pretty, and tragically stupid. Jim had shamelessly taken advantage of her, telling himself that his birth control injection hadn't completely expired.

"That is my son," he said.

T'Pring regarded the glowing image. "How old is he?"

"About 11," said Jim.

"You did not know about him," said T'Pring, turning the base of the holo in her hands.

That was precisely the moment Jim's heart hit the floor.

Uhura was wrong. Jim never loved T'Pring. He liked her. He liked her a lot; but Jim liked a lot of people. At those words, _You did not know_, he did love T'Pring. She understood.

She was steel under that soft exterior, but she was also, always, sweet.

"Thank you," he said.

T'Pring looked up at him.

Looking down he said, "Most people just think I am an ass who abandoned them - him and his mom."

Meeting her eyes he said, "Well, I was an ass, and I did abandon them, but I didn't know."

Magda, Jim's son's mother, had tried to tell him. Left him some messages, _Jim we have to talk,_ but never said about what. Jim thought he'd actually been doing her a favor by not responding. It's not like the relationship was going anywhere. He felt magnanimous at the time for not stringing her along just for sex.

Tilting her head, T'Pring said, "Of course I know; I have been in your mind."

Jim laughed low. "Yeah, well maybe you'd have to be...to know that."

She looked down again. "He is beautiful."

Jim's heart actually felt like it was back in his chest, and swelling. Nodding, he stepped up to the desk and sat on it sideways. He felt weak, and it wasn't _just_ love, but he was determined not to show it. "Yeah, he is. Smart, too. He wants nothing to do with me."

T'Pring looked up, and Jim dropped his eyes. This wasn't supposed to be about him.

A sudden thought occurred to him. It made him go cold, made him hopeful and filled him with disgust for himself at the same time. He blinked up at her. "Your bondmate?"

"He lives," said T'Pring.

Jim exhaled. "Oh." Looking away he said, "That is good."

Suddenly feeling very tired, he stood up. His vision went dark for a moment, but closing his eyes he let it pass. Trying to look as nonchalant as possible, he started to make his way over to his couch. The world began to sway and he stopped.

He heard the soft scrape of his chair on carpeting and T'Pring was by his side, her hands carefully on his sleeve.

"You should be in sick bay," she said. "It will take some time for the toxins in the device to work their way out of your system."

"I just need to sit down," said Jim, stepping towards the couch. T'Pring went with him, her arm on his, and he was almost thankful that he was too weak to marvel at her closeness.

As he settled onto the cushions he said, "I came here to check in on you." Lolling his head onto the back of the couch, he motioned for her to sit down beside him. She did, but not too close.

Rolling his head towards her he said, "Thank you, thank you for what you did. You were amazing. I am in awe."

T'Pring said nothing, only stared off in the distance.

Swallowing, Jim said, "Will you be alright?"

"If you are concerned about physical invasion of my person, and the physical consequences thereof, you should know Livak did not succeed in violating me in that way."

Jim squinted. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. But I was more concerned about your emotional well-being."

He reached a hand towards hers but she pulled it away. He stared at where her hand had been. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, T'Pring. Not for deceiving him, and not for killing him."

"I do not feel shame for either."

Brow furrowing, his side starting to ache, Jim said, "What then?"

Not answering him, she said, "I was in his head. I saw what he did to you."

Jim felt himself go cold and heavy. Shuddering, he clenched his fist. "Well, I saw what he did to me, too, so there is no need to discuss it."

"He did it to others," T'Pring said.

Smiling tightly, Jim said, "Yeah, well, I pretty much figured he had experience."

His side burned and he winced. Tightening his jaw, he looked up at the ceiling. His eyes drifted closed for just a minute and there he was 6 again, and there was Frank, but Frank was Spock on the bridge, his hands around Jim's neck.

Opening his eyes, he took a sharp breath. He knew what was bothering her. And how could he not have known immediately? She had no combat training or experience. She was a sweet girl from a loving family who had no idea of what she would become under pressure - what they all became. And she was Vulcan...and that gave her certain abilities other races didn't have.

Staring at the ceiling he whispered, "You can make pain go away. But you can also cause it. You saw what Livak did...and you wanted to hurt him. You wanted to make him feel all the hurt, all the fear, and all the despair he made me - everyone, feel.

"And maybe for a moment you did." Maybe's Livak's lack of control affected her, but just a bit, and just for an instant.

Jim looked over at her, but she would not meet his gaze. Reaching out, he put a hand on her back. He could feel her alien heat through her robe. She did not relax but did not move away.

Gently rubbing her back he said softly, "But you caught yourself, T'Pring. You pulled away. You couldn't go back into his mind, to kill him painlessly and telepathically -"

She looked over at him sharply.

"Yes," he whispered. "I know Vulcans can do that. You didn't trust yourself. Instead you slit his throat, which was a much more peaceful death than he deserved."

Her frame sunk a little. Pulling himself upright and closer to her, he said, "I'm sorry, T'Pring. I'm sorry you had to do that."

His arm slipped around her waist, and he kissed the top of her head. "You're not Livak, T'Pring, you're not. Not at all." Wrapping his arm more tightly, he said, "When the moment came you made a choice, the choice every person in combat has to make. You saw what you could be - and stayed yourself." He kissed the top of her head again. "You're not Livak. You're smart, daring, and cunning, but kind and sweet. You're perfect."

She stayed very rigid and a little part of his brain, one that was very small and rather unused started sounding warning bells. He had his arm wrapped around a Vulcan woman, and this was bound to be misinterpreted. She was bonded. She was an adult - not a child. Vulcan bonds once consummated were difficult to dissolve. The bond affected every part of the mind, even the brainstem. Bonded Vulcan couples were drawn to each other, they called it "The Pull".

She couldn't cheat, even if she wanted to, and for once he wasn't even trying, and he wanted her to know that.

Raising his hands quickly, he fell back against the couch. "Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to..." But he was too tired to explain. He rubbed his eyes and was staring at Frank again. He opened them and stared at the ceiling.

"You should be in sickbay," T'Pring said.

"Just rest here a moment," said Jim rubbing his eyes. "Stupid nightmares," he mumbled, not sure how it slipped out.

"Lie down," said T'Pring, getting off the couch.

"You won't go?" said Jim, already falling over.

"No," said T'Pring.

"Good," said Jim. "I'll just close my eyes -"

For a moment. Just a moment.

x x x x

Jim was six years old and lying in bed on his side. T'Pring was next to him, setting primly upright, wearing jeans and a tee shirt. Her feet were bare, and the color of her toe nails kept changing. Frank was gone - she'd Vulcan nerve pinched him and then he'd vanished.

"There was one other thing," she said softly.

Clutching his pillow, Jim nodded as sagaciously as a six year old could to indicate she should go on.

"The ease with which I was able to manipulate his mind," T'Pring said. "We were always taught that the Romulans chose to leave because they worshipped violence and aggression and set out to conquer new stars. But now...now I wonder if they did not leave, so much as they _fled_."

"It doesn't matter," said Jim, and T'Pring looked down at him.

"Whoever those ancient Vulcans were, whoever those ancient Romulans were, and who was wrong and who was right doesn't matter. You aren't one of those ancient Vulcans. You did the right thing." He looked down at the floor. "And you nerve pinched Frank. You are awesome."

Jim reached up, his hand small, unfamiliar, his heart huge and heavy. "I love you and I can't do anything about it, or even just have sex with you because you're married, and because I don't want to be _that_ guy, because you'll hate me forever, because you make me want to be a better person."

Jim felt her push aside something that was akin to vexation. Raising an eyebrow she said, "And you appear to be 6 years old."

Jim grinned and let his hand drop. "That, too."

Everything started to go dark. "What's happening?" he mumbled into his pillow.

"You appear to be slipping into the second stage of your sleep cycle," said T'Pring, sounding very far away.

"Oh, yeah," mumbled Jim, "I'm dreaming."

The world went black and he was only conscious of being warm and safe. And then he was on his couch, lying on his good side, 31 years old again. But he was definitely still dreaming because T'Pring was sitting lotus style in front of him, wrapped in his robe, a blanket from his bed thrown over her legs. Her eyes were closed. Two fingers of one hand were on the pulse points of his wrist.

His heart feeling heavy, his head feeling light, he reached out and touched her cheek. And it was hot. And solid. And real.

Her eyes blinked open and Jim had the same sinking sensation in his stomach he'd felt when he knew his dad's Corvette was going to go over the cliff. She _knew_. The earth had shifted on its axis, the rotation of the galaxy had slowed, he was in love and she _knew_. And that might be good, except it wasn't. It was was maybe even cruel to burden her with it.

T'Pring's eyes went to his hand.

The comm in Jim's room crackled to life with Uhura's voice, _"Captain, we are now orbiting New Vulcan."_

Jim looked over at the ceiling but didn't - couldn't, move his hand. "Acknowledged," he said.

There was a pause and then Uhura said, _"Captain, there is one other thing. A mister Tulvouk is requesting permission to beam over."_

**A/N:**

What? It's not like Tulvouk could just _disappear_. And if I don't make it a cliffie you might not come back to read the rest.

Was Jim's change of heart was believable?

Reviews do feed my writing mood - if you're enjoying this, even if it is in a slightly pained way, please let me know!


	12. Dreams & Illusions

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Special thanks to every one who is reviewing, and extra special thanks to Notes from the Classroom. Check out her latest, "The Survivors" in my faves.

**Dreams & Illusions**

T'Pring knew better than to explore human dreams. Normal human thought and impulses weren't linear - unconscious human thought bordered on madness.

But a few minutes after James fell asleep on the couch, Dr. McCoy's voice came over the comm demanding he return to sickbay.

When T'Pring answered, "Dr. McCoy, James has fallen asleep, shall I wake him?" Dr. McCoy did not respond for 15 whole seconds. And then he said, "No, no, don't do that. He needs to sleep. But if he wakes up - and he probably will, you'll have to bring him down here to be sedated."

"Nightmares?" said T'Pring, remembering James' words a few minutes before.

Dr. McCoy sighed. "Yes, nightmares."

T'Pring promised to monitor James and return him to sickbay if he woke. Fetching a blanket, she settled down in front of him. His eye was no longer swollen shut, but it was still ringed with a purple bruise. She knew that beneath his shirt there was worse.

Her vision went slightly dark with her feelings for him, but there was no urge to bond. Tulvouk was still there in her mind, trying to reach out. She was too furious to let him in, but a part of her wanted to - it was "The Pull," the urge bonded couples felt to unite with one another mentally, emotionally and eventually physically. It doubled her sense of betrayal. She was betrayed by Tulvouk and betrayed by her own body.

She didn't have time to be bitter. 2.35 minutes later James' body started to jerk, and he began to mumble. For 1.5 seconds his eyes opened wide.

She didn't hesitate - although she should have. 14 years of being bonded with Spock should have informed her that it was a bad idea, that she would see things in his dreams she wasn't meant to see.

Putting her hands to his temple, she found herself in darkness, a lit doorway in front of her. Inside, a strange man was shouting, "Get your ass out here right now, or I'm going to tan your hide a whole fucking lot worse, you little shit!" His clothing was disheveled and he stank of alcohol.

Approaching from behind, T'Pring applied a nerve pinch, not even sure it would work. The man fell to the floor and then disappeared in a puff of smoke that smelled like brimstone. She blinked and looked around. She was in what looked like a sleeping chamber - perhaps of a child. There was a desk, a small bed with rather threadbare untidy looking covers, bookshelves filled with books and cluttered with odds and ends - rocks, dried leaves, pieces of machinery, and what looked like the nest of a small animal attached to a stick.

"T'Pring!"

Turning, she saw a small human boy poking his head out from under the bed.

"James?" she asked.

Grinning and scampering out he said, "I'm so glad it's you! Will you stay?"

She should have excused herself then. But her lover - _former_ lover, was in the body of a child and did not want her to leave - unlike Spock who hated it when she appeared in his dreams.

James had a mop of straw-colored hair and eyes that seemed even bluer than in his adult form. His teeth were too big for his tiny jaw. Enraptured, she stared at the attire he was wearing, a worn yellow top and matching bottom adorned with the most charming pictures of Terran flying vehicles. The little machines appeared to fly across the fabric - an illusion of the dream state.

"Fascinating," she said.

Nodding and taking her hand, he led her to the bed without the faintest trace of lust in his touch. "Are you feeling better?" he asked.

She tried to hide it, but it must have been something about his dream state, he could immediately tell what was bothering her, and in his child dream form gave her some startlingly good advice.

She was feeling much better, and knew if she left she would be able to slip into meditation with ease. And then reaching a hand up to her face he said, "I love you..."

It wasn't just the words that hit her, it was the emotion. She was certain Vulcans had no analog; It made her stomach quiver, it felt light, and bright and pure.

It was lovely.

But T'Pring knew better than to trust a dream. It was a hallucination, like the flying craft on his clothing. Annoyed at herself for thinking staying in James' mind was a good idea, she pushed his hand away.

Thankfully he drifted into deep sleep soon after.

Pulling herself from the meld, she stared at James' sleeping form. Remembering her promise to monitor him, she put her fingers to his pulse. It was strong and steady. So was his breathing. Despite the brush with the emotion he called love, she was still...better. Not at full equilibrium, but between the sound of his breathing and the throb of his pulse, she was able to slip into a light meditative state and then a deep trance.

2.5 hours later she felt it again; the light, bright feeling. Her stomach quivered and she opened her eyes. And there was James' hand upon her cheek, his alien blue eyes on hers. She almost gasped. The emotion was real. Not some addled figment of a dream.

His mouth dropped just a fraction. Staring at his hand, she felt something like comprehension - and an apology? That was when the comm crackled

"..._A mister Tulvouk is requesting permission to beam over,"_ Lieutenant Uhura finished.

James' hand still rested on her temple. His face went hard. "Give me a moment, Uhura."

The comm went silent.

"What do you want, T'Pring?" he said. She felt a sensation like the ground falling from beneath her and he pulled his hand away. Her shields dropped in shock and Tulvouk was in her mind.

She felt Tulvouk take stock of her mental state, felt his relief that her seduction of Livak had not been thorough.

_I am sorry, T'Pring. I failed you. Forgive me._...

T'Pring felt her fury return. If it had been _thorough_, would he still be seeking forgiveness?

She remembered James' comment when he realized rape had not occurred. "I was more concerned about your emotional well-being." He was more concerned about the state of her _mind_ than some trivial exchange of bodily fluids that may have occurred to her body.

She so wanted Tulvouk out of her head.

"No. Do not let him beam over," she said. Tulvouk did not belong here. She hastily rebuilt her shields.

James nodded and slid upright, his movements stiff, his eyes a little wide.

Staring at him she said, "This does not really change anything between us." Because it didn't, did it? No matter what happened with Tulvouk, weren't they still fundamentally unsuited for each other? No matter what they felt?

James said nothing, but his body sagged a bit. She saw a motion in his jaw, as though he were running his tongue over his teeth. Looking away he said, "Whatever you want, T'Pring."

"I will beam down to the appointed place on New Vulcan," she said.

Nodding, he met her gaze and said, "We better get you some proper clothes."

Her hand went to his robe. It smelled like him, and she wished she could remain shrouded in it much longer - indefinitely. Bowing her head, she said, "Yes."

Focus. She had to focus. And she had one other thing left to tell him, "James, when I was in Livak's mind, I saw why they invaded Irak khio'ri"

"Because their backs are against a a wall, and they're in an expansionist mood?" he said, slipping his legs over the edge of the couch and putting his elbows on his knees. "Irak khio'ri is a perfect place to colonize and to test Federation resolve. I wouldn't be surprised if Livak's action weren't completely condoned, but now that we capitulated so easily, they'll be more confident."

Startled by his insight, T'Pring looked up. "Yes, he only had access to the least experienced of their troops. But most likely, the ones that come in the next wave..."

James shrugged. "Yeah..." Rubbing his eyes he said, "They have to find room for all the denizens of Romulus and Remus, plus for their colonies in system - and they're going to want to make sure they're never in this position again."

"They want the Federation under control of the Empire," said T'Pring.

"Of course," said James.

"I do not believe all of their ships have future technology," T'Pring said.

At that James' eyes widened. "They may have jumped the gun-" He looked up at her and must have guessed her confusion because he said, "Engaged us too early."

"There will be war in any event," T'Pring said softly.

Looking at his hands, James said, "Yes." He turned his eyes briefly to the porthole in his cabin, and then said, "Come on, let's go find you some clothes."

43.5 minutes later she stood in the transporter pad in clothing once again borrowed from Lieutenant Uhura. In the background there was the soft irregular beeping of the technician adjusting the parameters.

James stood silently at the foot of the pad with Uhura, his eyes heavy on T'Pring's. T'Pring swallowed and he took a step forward. T'Pring had the sinking realization that he was going to touch her hand and cause a scene in front of Uhura and the nameless tech - just as he had in the garden, and on Ortz station.

But drawing himself straight, James stopped. Licking his lips, he said quietly, "Live long and prosper, T'Pring." Lifting his hand he drew his fingers into an admirable attempt at the Vulcan salute.

Lifting her own hand, T'Pring tried to respond - but found herself caught in a whirlwind of static and light.

Dropping her eyes in the brightness of New Vulcan's sunlight, she sucked in a breath that was dry and hot.

James hadn't tried to convince her to stay. He was behaving logically for once, and it should reassure her.

She swallowed. Lifting her head, she surveyed her surroundings. She was in a large courtyard, refugees from Irak khio'ri all around.

Her eyes, just by chance, fell on T'Rene, the young woman whose bonding she'd questioned. Next to T'Rene was the older bondmate, clutching his arm. T'Rene stood an awkward .75 meters away. Her eyes briefly met T'Pring's.

There was the sound of more transporter energy, and she felt Tulvouk at her shields. She did not respond.

"T'Pring," said Tulvouk, too close behind her. "T'Pring, I have wronged you."

T'Pring froze, as did nearly every other Vulcan in earshot. Vulcans did not discuss personal matters in public aloud. And Tulvouk had just admitted to his failing publicly. He was desperate.

T'Rene's bond mate turned away. T'Rene dropped her eyes and turned slowly, too.

T'Pring was desperate not to let anymore of this conversation be overheard. She dropped her shields.

And there was Tulvouk, behind her in the courtyard, at the front of her mind. _I was wrong. My behavior was illogical...I discussed the matter with my parents, and they are in accord, what you did was logical._

His parents, they were still alive and here. It was not unusual for children to consult with their elders in matters of bonding discord. And they supported _her_.

But...Whipping around she met Tulvouk's eyes and let him feel the full force of the hurt of his betrayal, and her desire to be unbonded.

Dropping his gaze, he nodded. _You are correct. And if that is what you truly wish, I will acquiesce._

T'Pring's mouth dropped a fraction. She was flooded with his remorse and shame. His apology and his admission of his own failings were so thorough and genuine.

It might have been enough.

x x x x

T'Pring entered the final notes from her patient into the computer's medical log. It was only three weeks after her arrival at the colony, but one thing about being a doctor, it was easy to find a job. Her speciality of xenomedicine made her especially useful at a busy port like New Vulcan.

She had one more patient to go and then she was meeting with Tulvouk.

Unbonding on New Vulcan wasn't easy. There was a two month waiting period after all the forms were submitted, and T'Pring hadn't gotten as far as filling them out. Being with Tulvouk and his_ family _made her not want to unbond. She liked his parents, and she had none of her own. She didn't have a family bond with them, not yet, but she could feel echoes of their feelings for her through her bond with Tulvouk.

And if she was disappointed with Tulvouk, well, her mother had told her that was to be expected at some point in every bonding. But so were unexpected joys - like how he was capable of metaphor, his description of James and Kala as "ghosts" for instance. And maybe his failing was more biological than personal. He was a territorial creature. That he could accept the prominent presence of James in her mind spoke a great deal about him.

She told herself these things regularly because sometimes she wasn't sure if it was logic or just "The Pull" that kept her from filling out the forms.

Her internal timer went off and she turned to the door to see her last patient - a Vulcan, and her friend, not an offworlder for once. 3.5 seconds later T'Rene walked through the door. T'Pring hadn't seen her since that first day on planet, and she had been looking forward to seeing her today, but one look at her patient and friend and her happy expectations faded.

T'Rene was three months pregnant but not showing. That was normal. That she was shivering from head to toe was not.

Springing from her chair, T'Pring went to the younger woman and said, "Sit down at once. I will call the ER."

Catching her arm, T'Rene said, "No, I am not physically ill."

T'Pring tilted her head at the younger woman. Shaking, T'Rene said, "T'Pring, my bond-mate is under anaesthesia right now having surgery on his arm. I do not have much time - when he awakes..." she shook her head. "He is a stronger telepath than I. I will not be able to escape. Please, I need out."

Drawing back, T'Pring swallowed. She did not ask if T'Rene had been forced into the bonding; she knew. Since the fall they were more common, but very few Vulcans had the courage to speak out against them.

"T'Rene, you need a healer," she said.

Vigorously shaking her head, T'Rene said, "No, they have a waiting period, forms, and you need consent of both parties. I need out _now_. I know you can help me."

T'Pring could, at least temporarily. She wasn't a healer, but there were sometimes medical reasons when a bond needed to be blocked for a short period of time, and she could do that.

She had no idea how she could find a healer on New Vulcan who would accept T'Rene's case. T'Rene was with child - and it would be a messy job. One that would require the healer to violate New Vulcan regulations for unbondings. T'Pring could probably talk her way out of any case put against her though. She could say honestly that she felt the bond needed to be blocked due to the anxiety the absence of her bondmate's presence during surgery was causing T'Rene. It wouldn't be a _lie_.

"I will help you," T'Pring said, "but you will need to leave New Vulcan. I do have..." T'Pring tilted her head. "A contact here that may be able to help you."

T'Rene bowed. "Thank you. Thank you."

Putting her hands quickly to T'Rene's temple, T'Pring slipped into the meld and did her best to avoid the memories of the young woman's Pon Farr. She closed the primary pathways of the bond and slipped out as quickly as she could.

As she moved away, T'Rene opened her eyes wide and then closed them again. "If I was human, I would be smiling, or crying, or both," T'Rene said, and T'Pring almost grabbed her hands in happiness. It was just the odd sort of comment T'Rene, the T'Rene before her brutal bond, would have said.

Sitting down quickly in her chair she said, "I will try to reach my contact," she said.

T'Pring did not acknowledge the comment - she fired up the work comm, and then thought better of it.

Pulling out her personal comm, she accessed New Vulcan's comm directory. All comm numbers were public knowledge, there was no need to keep them private; Vulcans didn't call each other without specific invitation. In a few seconds she found the personal number of the one official she knew personally who dared address the injustice of forced bondings. She hoped his words would carry over into action. Telling herself he had always been a bit unorthodox, she hit the connect button.

The comm flickered and a familiar face came on the screen. But it was not the man she was seeking. It was his son.

"T'Pring," said Spock, tilting his head. "What can I do for you?"

**A/N:**

Hey everyone, I hope that was exciting enough to warrant a read to the end (of the chapter). I have to get rid of that pesky bond-mate! I also need to convince T'Pring that James isn't such an illogical match in a way that fits both their personalities (so err, maybe that means Jim has to convince her).

Only a few chapters to go! Please stick with me. And if you are stickin' with me, please leave a review! It's the only way fanfiction authors get paid!


	13. Flight

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Special thanks to beta Notes from the Classroom. Check out her latest, "The Survivors" in my faves.

...and thanks to everyone who reviews, and everyone who's put me in their communities.

**Flight**

T'Pring stared at Spock for 2.5 seconds. T'Rene shifted in the background. They didn't have time for this to fail.

"Spock," she said, "I have a patient who needs to be unbonded without the consent of her bond mate. She must be taken offworld - I was hoping your father could arrange transport, and if possible, put her in contact with a healer." She took a breath. "It needs to be someone who is very competent - I have temporarily blocked the bond- but that may make things even more difficult."

Spock did not miss a beat. "My father is off planet for the day on official business. But I can arrange for private transport, and I know such a healer."

T'Pring felt her breath threaten to hitch. She relaxed and let it out slowly. "We will meet you at your residence."

But standing in the frame of the comm, Spock said, "There is no need. Where are you? I will come for you in the hover."

"At the hospital," said T'Pring.

Nodding, Spock said. "I will meet you in front in 3.5 minutes."

The comm went dark.

T'Rene was standing close behind her. "That was, Spock, son of Sarek? I met him and his family once when I was a child."

Standing, T'Pring said, "Yes."

Staring at the comm, T'Rene said, "I do not believe he will help me. He will think I am being illogical."

Confused, T'Pring said, "He has offered his assistance. Come, take my arm. When your bond mate wakes you may have a moment of disorientation."

T'Rene took her arm, but she gazed at the comm one second longer. Grabbing her medical bag with her free arm, T'Pring led her from the room.

It wasn't quite the end of T'Pring's shift, but when she walked out with a patient leaning on her there were no questions. She began to feel the tickle of Tulvouk in the back of her mind. _You are distressed, T'Pring._

_It is T'Rene,_ T'Pring said, walking down the long main hallway.

_Is she not well?_

_No, she is not well,_ T'Pring thought, restraining images of T'Rene's painful pon farr. _She was bonded against her will, just as I suspected._

The bond went silent as T'Rene and T'Pring stepped out onto the wide staircase at the front of the building. Tulvouk was coming up the stairs. Other partrons and employees of the facility were coming and going.

_What are you doing? _ he asked through the bond, his alarm flooding T'Pring. Shaken, she nearly dropped T'Rene's arm.

_I am aiding a patient, _T'Pring responded, leading T'Rene around Tulvouk and down the stairs.

He fell into step beside her and she felt his comprehension.

_You cannot do this, _he said in her mind. _You are breaking laws._

_I am aiding a patient who is distraught._

_You will bring dishonor on the family and our race, _Tulvouk countered. She felt the rise of his anger, and shame. _ If she goes offworld you risk aliens knowing of more of our failures - it's bad enough the galaxy knows of pon farr._

T'Pring stopped - his feelings affecting her. Making her doubt. She closed the bond and closed her eyes. Collecting herself, she lifted her eyes to Tulvouk, "To feel shame for the exposure of illogic is illogical."

Around them, other Vulcans turned on the steps and Tulvouk straightened at Surak's words.

"You are taking that out of context," he said.

This was true. Surak had been speaking of acts of personal illogic, not collective illogic. T'Pring did not care; she pulled T'Rene forward down the steps with her.

"The girl is pregnant, T'Pring," Tulvouk said aloud.

How dare he discuss this matter in public. On her arm, T'Rene shivered. T'Pring ducked her head and kept moving.

"It will not be just two people who are unbonded, it will be a family destroyed," Tulvouk said. Everyone on the stairs stopped and all eyes went to T'Pring and T'Rene.

Three older men in official robes moved to block her path.

T'Pring turned to Tulvouk. On her arm, T'Rene said, "I cannot go back to him. I cannot go back to him."

From behind, an older male voice said, "She needs to seek mediation."

"No," said T'Rene, grabbing T'Pring's hand. T'Pring felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle from the force of T'Rene's sheer terror.

"There can be no mediation when the abuser is the stronger telepath," T'Pring said to Tulvouk and the crowd at large.

Spinning, she met the eyes of one of the older men, "Let us pass."

In her peripheral vision she saw some Vulcans hurrying away and others pressing inward.

_Seek mediation._

T'Pring took a breath. T'Rene began to shake. "Get them out, get them out," T'Rene said.

_Be logical._

Feeling encroachment on her mental shields, T'Pring looked from side to side. They were cornered. "Let us pass," she said. "This is not your concern."

The three older men shifted closer.

"Let them pass," said a male voice down the steps.

There were murmurs and the advance on her mind disappeared. On her arm T'Rene stiffened. In front of her, the older men turned - their bodies parting. And there was Spock, in Starfleet blue, one eyebrow cocked, his head slightly tilted.

T'Pring had been on the receiving end of that look before. If it was James, playfulness would have been beneath the expressive demeanor. But it was Spock. He didn't play.

Grateful that just for once his anger wasn't directed at her, T'Pring pulled T'Rene, now shivering violently, through the narrow gap in the gauntlet. She heard sharp intakes of breath around her.

Leading T'Rene quickly past Spock, she heard him say, "I am here on official Starfleet business. It would be a shame if this confrontation made it into my report."

Her spirits rose - the _Enterprise_ must be here, and if the _Enterprise_ was here then...Standing straighter, she focused on keeping her pace even and controlled, and on keeping T'Rene from falling. The girl was now leaning very heavily on her arm.

A few seconds more and Spock fell into step on the other side of T'Rene. "The hover is this way," he said, holding up his arm for the young woman. Pulling away from him, T'Rene clutched T'Pring's arm more tightly. In the periphery of her vision she saw Spock sag minutely.

As soon as they slipped into the hover, T'Pring applied a sedative to T'Rene. Helping the girl lie down across the back seat, she monitored her until she was sure she was asleep. And then she moved to the front. Spock was maneuvering the hover out of the main settlement and towards the desert.

"I am taking you to my father's residence," said Spock. "I think it is better if you avoid an unauthorized beam up - or public transporter depots."

T'Pring nodded. Because of the potential for sabotage, transporter traffic was closely monitored and restricted to certain zones. But an official like Sarek would have diplomatic immunity and transporter use to and from his home.

Turning to look at his uniform, she said, "I was not aware the _Enterprise_ was in orbit."

"It is not," said Spock.

T'Pring's spirits sank.

And then he added, "And the Captain is not here."

T'Pring felt herself go a little warm with embarrassment, knowing she'd been so easily read. But of course he _knew_, and there was no censure in his voice.

Spock continued, "My bondmate and I are no longer assigned to the _Enterprise_. I am here on a team building mission. Ms. Uhura is...assigned elsewhere, but she is visiting."

They drove in silence for 1.5 minutes, and then T'Pring said, "Thank you, Spock." She looked at her hands, the events of the last 57 minutes replaying in her mind. Spock hadn't even questioned her. Spock _always_ questioned her when they were bonded, _always_ looked for ways to show that his logic was superior.

Spock shifted the hover to another gear as the terrain became rocky beneath its anti-grav engines. Ahead she could see the S'chin T'gai residence a few kilometers in the distance.

"Your thanks is not necessary," Spock said, looking at T'Rene in the rear view mirror. "It has been an opportunity."

T'Pring looked at him.

"To make amends," said Spock, adjusting the engines again, eyes focused ahead. "I met T'Rene when she was a child. Her family is rather eccentric."

T'Pring resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow.

Raising an eyebrow of his own, Spock said, "I realize the irony in that statement now. But I did not then. I was...uncharitable, and accused her of being illogical when she was merely... unconventional."

It would have been charitable of T'Pring to remain quiet at that point, but something of the old hurt inside her snuck out to lash at him. "She believed you would not help her - she said you would think her behavior illogical."

She thought Spock would sink a little at her identification of the error of his past ways. Instead, he exhaled softly. It was almost like a human laugh, but not quite, and T'Pring could not begin to discern its meaning.

Pulling up to the house of Sarek and powering down the engines, he said, "T'Pring, you tolerated me for 14 years. If you say she needs to be unbonded, she is not being illogical."

Meeting her eyes, he added softly, "We all grow up, T'Pring."

She was stumbling over the words 'we all' - who was _we_? And she wanted to make amends herself, to point out that Spock's abuse hadn't been as severe as T'Rene's bondmate. But he was already out the door before she could formulate any words.

A few minutes later they were inside the residence and Ms. Uhura was communicating in a language T'Pring did not understand with the captain of the vessel that would take them to Earth - apparently he was her brother. She was dressed in Vulcan robes that swished softly over the floor as she paced back and forth, comm in hand. When she saw T'Pring she stopped and looked at Spock.

Nodding at her, Spock turned to T'Pring and said softly, "T'Pring, should we arrange transport for one, or for two?"

T'Pring met Ms. Uhura's eyes. T'Pring wondered what this alien woman thought of her - a Vulcan once bonded to her partner and now...

Turning her gaze to the floor, T'Pring said, "For two."

x x x x

The _Equus_ was a tiny ship without guest quarters. Captain Jabari Uhura had graciously lent his cabin to T'Pring and T'Rene - still mercifully asleep. Sitting on the side of the bed, T'Pring put her hands on the other girl's temples. She could sense T'Rene's bond-mate there, but he could not touch T'Rene while she was unconscious.

T'Pring let out a slow breath and slowly withdrew from T'Rene's mind. T'Pring's own bond-mate...

She looked out the porthole as the stars streaked past. They were on their way to Earth. T'Rene's family still resided there, as did the healer, T'Quill.

T'Pring knew no one on Earth. Soon T'Pring would be alone again, as adrift as she had been since Vulcan. Alone in her mind, and alone physically, but not without friends, she reminded herself. She knew that Spock and Ms. Uhura would offer her what assistance they could. And there was James. Ms. Uhura had urged T'Pring to contact him when she reached Earth. And although there was nothing T'Pring would like more, she wasn't certain how to do so. She did not want to be a burden on James - and she felt informing him of her current circumstances would undoubtably be doing so.

Behind her the door slid open. Starting, she turned to face the ship's Romulan engineer, Rhinnea. "We have arrived," Rhinnea said. Her face was adorned with the same mourning markings of the crew of the _Narada. _

Before they beamed up, Ms. Uhura had said, "Rhinnea came through the same temporal distortion as Nero, although she wasn't part of his crew. Her experiences at the hands of Vulcans have sometimes...not been good."

Before Livak and the ease with which T'Pring was able to manipulate him, she would have doubted this statement. Now, however.

They had arrived at Earth 50% faster than was possible at maximum warp. Resisting the urge to ask questions, T'Pring merely said, "Thank you for your hospitality." She dropped her eyes, trying to convey deference.

Without acknowleging her statement, Rhinnea said, "I will beam you from this room directly to the home of T'Quill, the healer. She has direct beam down rights," and then turned and left.

T'Pring felt a sense of loss as the woman left. They had so much in common - both had lost their worlds and their families, but the distance between them was enormous. Alien to one another, and now going in different directions. Rhinnea and T'Pring might have been friends in another universe, and T'Pring and James might have been more than temporary lovers.

She tilted her head and looked out the porthole again. As white light enshrouded her she wondered - what direction was she going?

Materializing in a Spartan white chamber with worn gold wood floors, T'Pring felt the familiar gravity of Earth beneath her feet, and the famliar chill of Northern California. In front of her was a window through which T'Pring could see the branches of an immense tree.

Still unconscious, T'Rene had been transported to a low mat on the floor. T'Pring looked around. There was no one - but...

_Mama, they have arrived 50% faster than is possible at maximum warp! _The words jumped into her mind and she heard rustling below her.

T'Pring threw up her shields and heard a woman say below, "T'Quilloc, you must learn to communicate verbally when we have guests. Stay here."

There was the sound of someone coming upstairs. Turning, T'Pring found an old fashioned Terran wooden door opening in front of her.

A Vulcan woman stepped through. With the tiniest trace of lines beneath her eyes and between her brows, she appeared to be slightly older than T'Pring. Her dark hair hair had one shocking streak of white, and was long, loose, and wavy. She wore clothing of Terran design-a long brown dress with a gray sweater over top cinched at the waist.

"I am T'Quill," she said, going immediately to her knees beside T'Rene and checking the unconscious girl's pulse. Lifting her head to T'Pring she said, "Forgive me for not being here for your arrival. I erred and mistook Captain Jabari's estimated time of arrival as a mistake on his part. Until now the _Equus_ has only travelled 5% faster than maximum warp."

T'Pring nodded. T'Quill touched T'Rene's temple with two fingers and then turned to T'Pring. "Please leave us," she said. "My daughter is below. She will be able to attend you. My husband and son will be returning from the woods in a few minutes. I will see you after I take care of the girl."

Nodding once again, T'Pring stepped out of the room, gently closing the door behind her. The stairs were before her and she followed them downwards feeling terribly alone.

She found herself in a foyer. A small voice called from a large open doorway to the right, "I am over here."

T'Pring stepped through a large rectangular doorway and found herself in a study of some kind. There were books everywhere, Vulcan, Terran - and by the looks of it, other. There were odds and ends, intriguingly-shaped tree branches polished smooth, shiny stones, and what looked to be a deconstructed robot at the center of the room on some sort of alien rug with complex geometric designs. It reminded her a great deal of Jim's room from his dream, but cleaner.

At the far corner was a little girl sitting in front of three monitors, her hands flying over a touch screen on her lap.

"I am T'Quilloc," said the little girl swinging her twig-thin legs as she sat on the chair, not turning around. "It will take me just a moment to finish this." On the monitors a strange Terran bird with a wide body, shaven head, and mishapen skin tags drooping from its beak appeared to...T'Pring blinked. It appeared to be dancing.

Unable to contain her curiosity, T'Pring stepped forward. "May I inquire what you are doing?"

"Of course," said the girl very fast, as though she'd been waiting for T'Pring to ask exactly that. "It is a something I am making for a human friend. She sent me a Halloween greeting card with dancing jack-o-lanterns and I thought I would send her a dancing turkey Thanksgiving card."

T'Pring had no idea what a jack-o-lantern was, though she guessed the strange bird on the screen must be a turkey. "Greeting card?" she asked.

Not turning, T'Quilloc said, "Yes, of course it is not really a card, it is electronic, but they still call it that. It is customary to send them on holidays."

Inclining her head towards the image of the strange fowl, T'Pring said, "Do Terrans find this bird aesthetically pleasing?"

Tapping the screen a final time, T'Quilloc tilted her head. "I do not know. They eat them, but I have heard my human friends say they are not very tasty." Turning to T'Pring she said, "Some Terran customs are very illogical."

T'Pring straightened and tilted her head. T'Quilloc was a younger, reed-thin version of T'Quill, complete with long, wavy hair. She wore a woolly looking jacket, over a short Terran dress and black leggings. She could not have been more than six years old.

"I will take you to my father now," said T'Quilloc. "He has returned with Soval and Karo."

Stepping quickly around T'Pring, she said, "Oh, I forgot, would you like some tea?"

"That is quite alright," said T'Pring.

Nodding, the little girl said, "Right this way."

She led T'Pring back through the foyer, through what looked like a dining room, a kitchen, and out a nondescript door that led outside.

The house opened to a small clearing in a thin Terran forest. A little boy smaller than T'Quilloc looked towards T'Pring, his pointed ears peeking out beneath a mop of black hair. He was clinging to the leg of a man - Vulcan or human, T'Pring could not tell. The man's back was towards her. He was dressed in Terran style pants and sweater. His hair was completely white, and on an arm covered in a thick glove perched the largest Vulcan _telenark_ T'Pring had ever seen.

The _telenark_ eyed T'Pring. It had a dark gray muzzle somewhat like that of a Terran fox but with much more prominent teeth. Its eyes were set in the side like a Terran bird of prey - which was essentially what it was. Of course it bore live young, and its feathers weren't feathers so much as they were specialized hairs, and it had two tiny tufted ears tucked just behind and slightly above it's eyes..

Stretching its wings so they were nearly 1.5 feet tip to tip, it made a hissing noise towards T'Pring. She blinked. It was surprisingly friendly.

The man turned around and T'Pring did her best not show her surprise. He was Vulcan. What was startling was how young he was despite his white hair.

"I am T'Quill's husband, Novasch," he said. Patting the head of the little boy he said, "This is Soval, and this," he said lifting his arm so the _telenark's_ wings fluttered, "Is Karo."

T'Pring froze in place.

Not all Vulcans were touch telepaths - there were true telepaths among their race. The strongest among them were recruited by the Gray Guard, a special division of Vulcan Intelligence. They were Intelligence's interrogators, and while some said the Guard's methods were the most humane in the galaxy, others had their doubts. The unique stresses of the job caused unusual physiological reactions - early onset of gray hair, and cataracts.

If not officially reviled, members of the Guard were definitely feared. Vulcans hid their feelings from all but immediate family, but Guardsmen saw all. Ripping through mental shields of Vulcans and other races, stripping bare the minds and emotions of their subjects was their job. Some said their methods were worse than physical torture.

T'Pring remembered T'Quilloc's mind speaking to hers through meters of the house. Telepathy was inherited...and Novasch's eyes...They were black, but a little unfocused. The whites were green, as though scarred by many surgeries.

If Novasch wasn't now with the Guard, he had been. As soon as this realization passed through her, she knew Novasch sensed it - even if not deliberately. He straightened infinitesimally. The _telenack_ began to bob and wave its head.

A part of T'Pring wanted to run. She did not want to be seen by this man. Soon to be twice unbonded, she was now a pariah on New Vulcan for that and for her part in T'Rene's unbonding. She did not wish to share her shame. And then she realized how foolish she was being. Wouldn't T'Quill see and know all - wouldn't Novasch know T'Pring through his mate? She couldn't hide from this man. One way or another he would know.

And what a burden that was for him.

Taking a step forward she said, "I understood that there was a _telenack_ breeding program on new Vulcan."

The animal began to hiss happily on Novasch's arm, and Novasch relaxed just a fraction. Soval let go of his leg.

"Yes, and he has contributed to the genetic pool and helps to rebuild his race, but from a distance," Novash said. "Karo here injured his wing years ago, and it healed improperly. On New Vulcan he would be confined to a cage. Here, in Earth's lighter gravity, he can fly."

As though to emphasize the point, Karo spread his wings and took to the air.

T'Pring's vision swam, and for a moment she was the _telenack_. She could feel the wind beneath her as her body rose higher, and could taste the air becoming thin. She was suspended in mid air, and despite the slight stiffness, the strain and dull ache in her left wing, it was glorious and her heart soared.

T'Pring-as-Karo turned and gazed down upon herself, Novasch, T'Quilloc and Soval - and saw Soval's fingers were touching her own.

Blinking, T'Pring brought her consciousness back down to Earth.

Soval looked up at her with unblinking eyes. The child could mentally see through the eyes of an animal and transmit his vision to another. He was immensely strong. On Vulcan there would be pressure upon the entire family to have Soval and T'Quilloc trained for the Gray Guard. But here -

"You must excuse him," said Novasch. "He is but a child."

"Fascinating," was all T'Pring could say.

**A/N:**

For anyone interested in Novasch's backstory he's in "The Devil Likes Chocolate", he also appears in "The Vulcan", and "Tapestry".

T'Quill has a cameo in one of Notes' stories. She is in "The Native" and "How the Mighty"...and I planned for her to appear at the end of Tapestry.

Hope you're happy - a non-cliffie chapter ending (not story ending). If you read and enjoyed, and are going to stick around despite the non-dread-inducing-finale to this chapter please leave a review. They do help me keep going.


	14. Holding

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Special thanks to beta Notes from The Classroom - check out her latest "The Survivors" in my faves, for Spock/Nyota, Romulans, Kirk, and Pon Farr good times.

IMPORTANT...

It's been a while since I updated, so I just want to remind readers that a few chaps back Kirk reminisced about being stuck in Spock's body for a while.

**Holding**

Jim made his way through the halls of his ship, running his hands along her scorched bulkhead.

Flipping out his comm, he hit Bones' number. There was no answer.

Jim wanted someone to commiserate with, maybe to a share glass of bourbon with. The last few weeks had been rough. Today had been worse. A prototype cloaking device had inexplicably caused flash fires on the _Enterprise's _decks - Jim had lost a crew member, and Bones had been burned.

Maybe Bones was really hurt. Jim hit his comm again. Again there was no answer.

Tapping a different code on his comm, Jim said, "Computer, locate Doctor McCoy."

"_Dr. McCoy is in his quarters."_

Worried, Jim abruptly changed direction. It was too early for Bones to be asleep. As much as Bones complained that Jim wasn't a good patient, it was Jim's personal belief that Bones was even worse. He was going to haul his ass down to sickbay and let Chapel at him. Would serve him right.

Stopping at Bones' door, he hit the chime. There was no answer. "Bones?" Jim called out. Still no answer. Entering the captain's override code, he stepped in and…Christine was already there...in fact, from the noises she was making...

"Arrgh!" said Jim, squeezing his eyes shut, throwing up an arm and ducking his head.

"What the hell?" growled Bones. "Were you raised in a barn?"

If had been anyone else, Jim might have made a joke - but it was Christine, and that was still weird after all these years. Not dropping his arm or lifting his eyes, Jim backed out. "Sorry, _really_, sorry," he said as the door slid shut in front of his nose.

Embarrassed, and sadly a little turned on, Jim backtracked as fast as he could, nearly careening into Yeoman Rand.

He closed his eyes and took a breath. Just the person he did not want to see.

"Captain," she said, putting her hands out as though to steady him. "I've been looking all over for you."

Gritting his teeth he said, "I'm fine," and stepped around her.

Swallowing, she said, "Sir, I know the last few weeks have been hard on you."

"They've been hard for all of us, Yeoman," he said, making his way down the hall towards his quarters.

Falling into step a few paces back she said, "Have you eaten? Please let me get you something from the mess. I can bring it to your quarters, sir."

Jim stopped. He turned his head to look at her.

She halted mid-stride a few paces behind, drawing to attention.

Janice Rand in this universe was as enticing as she'd been in the other universe - Old Spock had transferred a lot of memories in that quick meld. This universe's Janice also stood too close to him on the bridge. She got a little too upset when he was injured.

Now she stood before him, so young - at least ten years his junior, 21 at most, her legs impossibly shapely beneath the very short red skirt, her eyes wide and very soft. Her crush on him was so transparent. It struck Jim that she was nothing so much as a ripe piece of fruit waiting to be picked.

Rand was a sweet girl - and Jim did like sweet girls. Christine swore he was afraid of strong women. And maybe he was, just a little. His own mother had sacrificed Jim and his brother Sam to her career. Jim didn't care if her motivation partially had been grief. The end result was the same.

He was drawn to good girls, _nice_ girls. Uhura was constantly niggling at Spock when they were off duty, not that Spock didn't give as good as he got, and Jim knew it was like verbal foreplay to them - but still, he didn't really _understand_. And Bones and Christine - well, Jim would never really understand Christine. She was a shark and didn't wait to be off duty to give Bones what for.

"Captain?" said Rand, eyes wide, one hand wrapped around the bottom of the leather satchel carrying the PADD at her hip.

It would be so easy. He exhaled again. In another universe he would take her up on her offer. She'd come to his cabin, tray in hand, and lay it on his desk. He'd take her hand, push the tray aside and never touch its contents. Her lips and her legs would part and she'd give him her whole heart.

And that other Jim would like her a lot. But nothing more. And she wouldn't just stand too close on the bridge, she'd grab his hand. When he was injured she'd weep and throw her head next to him on his stretcher.

He remembered T'Pring sitting in sickbay watching him argue with Spock. She'd been silent and still as a stone. She hadn't gotten in the way of him doing his job.

Taking a step closer, this Janice said, "Captain?"

Shaking his head, he said, "No, Janice. Dismissed."

In this universe he did not need that type of drama coming between him and his ship - whatever woman he was with had to share him with his mistress, the _Enterprise_. A few minutes later he entered his cabin. As the door slid shut behind him, he looked up at the ceiling and said softly, "Just you and me again, Baby."

He sighed. Too bad looking at the _Enterprise_ wasn't quite enough to get him going. He chuckled. Maybe for Scotty...

Sitting down, he hit his monitor and watched as emails scrolled in. They'd been on communication blackout for all but priority one Starfleet communications for over 48 hours during the cloak test.

His eyes went over to the holo on his desk as they often did. It was dark. He'd fixed it so Jimmie didn't spring to light with the least jostle. He was about to reach and turn it on when his comm chimed.

x x x x

The sun was setting behind Nyota when she got off the comm with Spock. He was on New Vulcan putting together a team to rapidly advance Starfleet's weaponry and shielding technology.

She was on Tilonias III aiding code breaking efforts. It was hot here, and the gravity weighed heavier even than New Vulcan's.

Her call with Spock hadn't been enough. Even with the bond she still wanted to see him - and it had only been two weeks. Maybe it was the knowledge of how much time apart was stretching in front of them as they prepared for war with Romulus.

She sighed. He'd been pulled abruptly from the call. She stared at the blank screen and had an inspiration.

"Captain James T. Kirk of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_," she ordered her comm, and the screen of her monitor flickered to light. For a moment it was blank and then there was Jim on the other line.

"Hey, _Commander_ Uhura," he said, drawing out her new rank with a lopsided grin. "What's wrong - basket weaving getting boring?" Basketweaving was his code for what she was currently doing.

"Oh, it's about as thrilling as star mapping," she said, her own code for his current assignment - playing guinea pig for new technology.

His face got very dark for a moment, but then he smiled a fake, insincere smile, "Yeah, just out here twiddling our thumbs."

"Sorry," she said, and she meant it.

He shrugged and looked down.

"Seen any good holos lately?" she asked. Obscure historical holos were something she and Jim really enjoyed that Spock was just lukewarm on.

She heard a small chime in his computer sound and his eyes went to the side. "Email alerts," he said, "Nothing important." Then he groaned. "The holo selection released by Starfleet has been really bad - situational comedies and inane romances. So how was New Vulcan?"

And it hit her. T'Pring hadn't told him. And yes, Spock had been in contact with Jim since her visit; they _were_ best friends. But all Spock and Jim did in their comm calls was play 3D chess and war games.

"There is something you should know about T'Pring," said Nyota.

Jim's face lost all expression and he looked down. "She's pregnant, right?"

Nyota blinked.

Licking his lips, looking up and smiling a not-quite-insincere smile, Jim said, "Good for her. The universe will be a better place with little pointy-eared T'Prings in it."

Letting out a breath, Nyota said, "No, Jim, that isn't it at all." And then she told him.

When she was done, he looked down at the floor. "Of course she wouldn't tell me," he said. "It would be too much like whinging."

Sighing, Nyota shook her head, "I love Vulcans, I really do. But sometimes they're stupid."

Jim smirked up at her. "Is Spock listening in?"

Narrowing her eyes, she said, "He knows my feelings on the matter."

Chuckling softly he looked away, "Do you know where she is?"

"No," said Nyota.

Tapping a finger, he said, "The consulate on Earth might know if she's still there..." The chime on his computer sounded again. He looked to it and blinked. "Whoa, Nyota your timing..."

Not correcting him for using her first name, she said, "What is it?"

"It's an email from T'Pring," said Jim, pulling up a PADD and tapping fast, "Opening it here..."

Nyota held her breath at his obvious excitement. She liked T'Pring; she was tough and smart. And she liked Jim. He was Spock's younger, accident-prone, over-eager, genius brother. He wasn't the player he once was - and he was lonely. The way he looked when he said goodbye to T'Pring on the transporter, and the way he was jumping now, forgetting even to shut off his comm...If T'Pring played her cards right, she could wind up Mrs. Kirk - if she so desired.

Nyota heard something that sounded like chintzy music. Jim blinked at the PADD. And then he broke down in hysterical peals of laughter.

"What is it? What is it?" asked Nyota.

Wiping his eyes - was he actually crying?- Jim said, "It's a dancing turkey Thanksgiving Card!"

So much for playing her cards right.

Sniffing a little, Jim grinned down at the PADD and said, "This is so _awesome_! No one has _ever_ sent me a dancing turkey for Thanksgiving!"

He held it up for her to see. It was painful to look at, but Nyota did her best not to grimace. Biting her lip she just nodded.

Not noticing her discomfit, Jim said, "No one sends me Thanksgiving cards, ever. I mean, there was that card Gaila sent to everyone, the Indian girl and the Puritan girl making out -"

Scowling slightly Nyota said, "I don't remember getting that card -"

Jim didn't seem to have heard her, "She had herself as the Indian girl and - " Pulling the PADD back and looking at it with a wistful expression on his face, he said, "But this is even _better_!"

It occurred to Nyota that she really didn't understand Jim. But to each their own, she supposed.

Looking up at her, Jim said, "Um..." He looked down at the PADD. "Would you mind if I -"

"Go ahead and call her - or email her," Nyota said, feeling very magnanimous.

Jim grinned. If he had a tail it would be wagging.

"You're the best," he said.

She smiled, not a little triumphantly. And then she blinked. "Wait, who was the Puritan girl in that card?"

But the screen was already dark.

x x x x

The house of T'Rene's parents in Silicon Valley, California, was quiet, just warm enough, blissfully dry, and smelled of pine. In the meditation room there was the smell of fresh straw from the Japanese tatami mats.

It was normally the perfect place for meditation. T'Pring's eyes sprung open from her trance, her subconscious mind alerting her that something was amiss. Turning her head, she found, T'Rene, legs still in lotus position, shaking violently she'd almost doubled over.

T'Pring put out a hand to her shoulder. Blinking, T'Rene lifted her self and opened her eyes. "It is gone," she said.

T'Pring did not ask what. A side effect of the break of a consummated bond was occasional visions.

In contrast, T'Pring's own broken bond was easy. The shame of being twice unbonded was worse than the physical effects. She swallowed. Guessing her thoughts, T'Rene said, "It was the right thing to do. This way he is only in my head some of the time."

Stretching her legs, T'Rene said, "Come, let us go have some tea."

As they walked from the meditation room down the corridor, the chime of the family's main comm line sounded in the library. _ "Subspace call. Captain James T. Kirk, U.S.S. Enterprise," _said the caller I.D.

Surprised, T'Pring stopped. She'd sent James an email two days ago with the traditional greeting of his people. She'd expected an email in reply and only included the main comm number as an after thought. But he was calling. How nice. But then her stomach did a little flip flop that was disorientating and not very nice at all.

From the library she heard T'Rene's brother Tulim. "I will get it."

"I think-" T'Pring started to say.

And then from the library, Rachel, Tulim's human wife said, "Didn't you meet Kirk, as Spock, when you were on Camus II?"

Mentally stumbling over "meet Kirk as Spock," T'Pring stopped at the library door.

"He would not have our number," Tulim said, going to the comm. "This is probably a crank caller."

Confused, T'Pring blinked and looked at the floor. Crank. _Machinery. An ill-tempered person. An eccentric zealot._

"What is it, T'Pring?" T'Rene asked.

There was a light beep, and they both turned to see the monitor's light shining around Tulim's back. Through the library, James' voice rang. "Is T'Pring there?"

"I am here," T'Pring said stepping into the library. Tulim, T'Rene, their parents and Rachel all looked at her. About the only person whose eyes weren't on hers was James. He was giving a sidelong look at Tulim. Perhaps because he remembered Tulim from Camus II?

Everyone's eyes went back to the monitor and Rachel said abruptly. "I think we should adjourn to the kitchen and get some tea."

"We just had tea," said Tulim.

Rachel said nothing, but T'Pring saw her eyes narrow as though in concentration. Tulim blinked. And then his parents and T'Rene blinked. It was as though a wave of understanding had literally passed through the family - and T'Pring realized it probably had. They were all connected - even Rachel through Tulim. T'Pring was the only one here who was really alone.

"T'Pring," said James, and her eyes went to the monitor as the family filed out of the library. Everything seemed to fade around her. This was the first time she'd looked at him since the bond was broken. It was as though a dam had burst, and her feelings were more intense than she remembered. If he were here he would not be safe from her.

She closed her eyes and collected herself for a moment.

"T'Pring," said James very slowly. "Will you be all right?"

Opening her eyes, T'Pring said, "Yes, I will be." If he were here she wasn't sure she could be logical. And what was logical was with him? His feelings for her had changed, or maybe deepened. But what did that mean? He was human. Humans were serial monogamists - and Jim was...well...more serial than most.

He _wasn't_ here. Neither of them was endangered by her feelings or confusion.

"I suppose you are wondering how I came to be on Earth," she said.

He shook his head, "No, Uhura told me."

Oh. T'Pring put her hands behind her back. On the one hand, Vulcans did not like their personal matters to be shared. On the other, this meant she did not have to discuss the issue. She felt curiously relieved.

"I know a broken bond...is hard," said James. "I am really very sorry."

T'Pring tilted her head. Was he speaking of hers, or T'Rene's? "Yes, once consummated, it is extremely difficult." Hers had not been consummated, and she was grateful. But she did not want to discuss it.

He swallowed.

She was curious if he had found her greeting card aesthetically pleasing - but something else burned in her mind even brighter. "Tulim, the man who answered the phone, his wife said that he met you as Spock on Camus II?"

James blinked. "His wife..." he said looking to the side. "Oh, yeah, I thought he looked familiar."

He grinned at her. "That is a long and complicated story - it involves alien technology, cosmic radiation, and rather deep understanding of the short and long term memory repositories of Vulcans and humans."

"Fascinating," said T'Pring. James was better than a documentary holo. And Surak did permit satisfying intellectual curiosity...

They were light years apart. If satiating her curiosity for events on Camus II and the cultural affinity to the likeness of a fat flightless fowl dovetailed neatly with an _emotional_ desire to speak to James...well, what harm could it possibly do?

**A/N:**

What could go wrong? Heh.

If you read and enjoyed, please leave a review! They help keep me going.


	15. Offenses

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Special thanks to Beta Notes from the Classroom. Check out her latest, "The Survivors" in my faves. (Pon Farr, Romulans and more!)

**Offenses**

The power in the main complex had gone out on the Tilonias III outpost and Nyota had an unscheduled break. She let her mind drift to Spock - and found his mind humming and preoccupied. Not wishing to disturb him while he worked, she pulled her mind to her present surroundings.

She still had power in her quarters. And subspace access. Pressing a button on her comm, she said, "Captain James T. Kirk, _U.S.S. Enterprise_."

The comm blinked to life and there was Jim sitting with a joystick in one hand. Eyes focused somewhere off the side of the frame, he said, "Commander Uhura! I was just beating your hubby in 2000 B.C."

War games - she could almost understand their appeal for Spock, but Jim was so close to the neutral zone...and intel said they were on the brink of war. Wasn't the risk of being shot at in real life enough for Jim?

Shaking her head, she said, "Spock?"

"Nyota?" came a disembodied voice. "You are off work early."

"Isn't this dual channel thing awesome?" said Jim.

Ignoring Jim, Nyota said, "Your mind sounds exactly the same when you are gaming as it does when you're working."

Across the link she felt the equivalent of a shrug.

"Oh, crap! He just knocked out one of my legions," said Jim. "Would you please distract him with that linky thing of yours?"

It shouldn't have, but that actually put wicked ideas in Nyota's head. It had been awhile.

_It _has_ been quite awhile,_ thought Spock, and Nyota felt herself go warm.

"Whoo-hee, it's working! I just got a clear shot at his general," said Jim. "Keep it up, Uhura. Or should I say, keep it up, Spock? Heh, heh, heh."

Nyota and Spock's annoyance at the innuendo was instantaneous. She scowled at Jim, but there was a chime on his end and his eyes were no longer on the monitor.

"Oh, hey, look," Jim said, PADD in hand. "It's March 6 and Casimir Pulaski Day!"

Nyota felt her ire at Jim's innuendo evaporate. Jim and T'Pring's use of obscure holidays as an excuse to speak to one another made talking to Jim very entertaining - it was a lot like reliving her first unofficial dates with Spock. Smiling, she remembered one of Spock's more outlandish reasons to get personal time. _It has been sunny for 3.563 hours. We should use this opportunity to get a cup of tea._ She pursed her lips. Hopefully, Jim wasn't in the same Vulcan holding pattern she got stuck in. Vulcan inertia could be hard to overcome.

_Casimir Pulaski Day? _ thought Spock.

_I have no idea, _Nyota replied through the bond. _But it does sound slightly more official than Squirrel Appreciation Day. _

She felt, rather than saw, Spock's lips quirk up.

Grinning at the screen, Jim said, "Gotta call T'Pring. See ya' later."

The screen went black. She was left with just Spock in her brain. _You were in the process of distracting me? _he thought hopefully.

Nyota blinked. And then she smiled. _Visuals would be nice, too,_ she replied, readjusting her comm. Suddenly she felt her vision go black and her body go very, very, very warm.

x x x

T'Pring rushed into UC San Diego Hospital's emergency room. Human paramedics were hastily drawing a curtain around a Vulcan male shivering violently on a bed. "He said he needed a healer," one of the paramedics said. "Thought you should see him while we call her."

Nodding, T'Pring stepped forward. She worked elsewhere in the building but was often called in for emergencies involving non-humans.

"Is it...pon farr?" whispered one of the paramedics. The Vulcan man's face flushed green.

"I do not know," she said, putting her hand to his temple. She was instantly flooded with visions of a human woman - her mate - no _her patient's _mate - in bed with a human man.

Her patient's consciousness touched her own. _Get her out._

Without a second thought, T'Pring swept into the regions of the brain that were responsible for the bond and quickly closed the connections.

Withdrawing, she said to the paramedics, "He will be fine until T'Quill arrives."

"Yes, Doctor," said one. T'Quill, the healer who had aided T'Pring, had been needed on more than one occasion.

Her nameless patient was no longer shivering. As the humans disappeared, he said, "I had to bond with her."

T'Pring did not ask for an explanation. There had been plenty of emergency pon farr bondings between Vulcans and aliens after the the destruction of the homeworld.

"From the beginning she has always noticed other males," he said, eyes on the ceiling. T'Pring tilted her head.

She had several human-Vulcan couples as patients. The human tendency for wandering eyes, if not hands, was often a source of tension in the relationships - even the ones that were successful.

She was glad she did not have to contend with that sort of madness.

"They are a primitive race," the man said.

T'Pring raised an eyebrow. "No, just different." James had doubtlessly moved onto other sexual partners, though he was too tactful to discuss it with her. But she valued his friendship. Greatly. Immensely.

She'd only managed to get this job after he'd insisted that she put Dr. McCoy down as one of her references. There hadn't been any Vulcans from her previous employ willing to give her recommendations.

And she valued the hospitality of his fellow humans. Earth wasn't without its xenophobes, but on the whole she evoked more curiosity than hostility.

Deciding she had nothing more to discuss with this man, she said, "I am leaving. The healer will be here within 47.5 minutes."

As she stepped through the curtain, the familiar quiet buzz of conversation from the nurses station and the waiting room washed over her. A holo was playing an early morning show. Pausing briefly, she glanced down at her personal comm. There were a few work emails, but her eyes sped first to the one from James. Despite the fact that they communicated in some fashion nearly every day now, her stomach did its usual semi-uncomfortable flip flop.

James had assured her that learning more about Earth holidays was a useful strategy to employ to better understand the culture of her host world. She could not fault his logic. And if greetings sent back and forth by email led to comm chats that didn't adhere strictly to the subject of holidays, what was the harm? Distance made it safe. Acceptable. Perfect.

And of course, he was always interesting. The subject of today's email was "Happy Наадам." Intrigued, T'Pring blinked at the strange characters and then hurriedly opened the email. The characters were Mongolian! She'd never even heard of Mongolia before. She was about to hit the link to an explanation James had helpfully supplied when she became aware a hush had settled over the hospital.

She glanced down the hallway. A crowd of doctors had gathered in the waiting room and were looking in the direction of the holo.

Someone turned up the volume. She heard the unmistakable voice of the Federation President.

"...and so it is with a heavy heart, but the firmest of determination, that I inform you...We are now at war."

T'Pring looked down at James' email. Below the link there was a short paragraph:

_Still just star mapping and very bored. Got any more stories of cultural misunderstandings or *_apparent*_ human illogic? Send them over, they're bound to be vastly more interesting. Really, things are very unexciting out here. Worry is illogical. _

_Yours always,_

_James_

Yours always? It made her vision blacken and her heart quicken. At the same time it made her brain scream out that all was not right with her logic.

x x x x

Jim was tucked in the blankets of his bunk, his comm open and alight at his side. He gazed at T'Pring - and touched the screen. She looked so clean, warm, and beautiful bathed in San Diego sunlight.

"It is not your usual sleep time and yet your lights are at 25% and you are in bed," T'Pring said.

Because power was being conserved, and it was cold...and dark. Not wanting to worry her, Jim lied. "We've altered the shift schedule."

She tilted her head. "Has the _Enterprise_ been called to the front lines?" T'Pring asked.

Shrugging, Jim said, "We're nowhere near the front, T'Pring." Which was true. They'd been hit so badly that standard repair ships couldn't do the job. They were limping back to Oortz station after the Romulans' recent offensive.

Not wanting to talk or think about it - about all the ships lost, listening to the screams of dying crew members over the ship's intercom, or about all the condolence letters he'd had to write, Jim said, "Hold up the monitor and turn the camera so I can see everything."

Obliging him, T'Pring held it up and spun it around slowly.

"A view of the ocean," Jim said in awe. It was the first time he'd been able to call her since the beginning of hostilities three weeks ago - and the first time since she'd moved into her new apartment.

"And no cockroaches," T'Pring said.

Jim laughed. She'd been living on her own for months now - well, except for some unexpected six legged roommates at her previous residence.

As she put the comm down, Jim caught a view of her chest backlit by sunlight. For an instant he could see through the fabric of her shirt. She was wearing a bra, but it didn't matter. Just the sight of the curve of her breasts, and the barest indication of the rise of her nipple, was enough to make parts of Jim's anatomy rise. It was wondrous. After all the horrors he'd seen in recent weeks, it reminded him that he was still alive. He almost laughed. He'd be replaying this little bit of comm recording over again later.

"The Sol News Network reports that Starfleet does not have an adequate number of doctors of xenomedicine," T'Pring said.

Startled at the change of subject, Jim blinked. It was true. There were many Federation worlds with cultures barely at Warp 2. Their denizens were enlisting in Starfleet, and doctors of xenomedicine were needed.

His mind flashed back to their first engagement with Romulans - watching seven Starfleet ships erupt in flames before his eyes, the Romulans firing on all escape pods.

Swallowing at the implication, Jim said, "You hate space travel, T'Pring."

"What I like or dislike is not relevant," T'Pring said.

"Thinking of enlisting 'cause you just can't stay away from me?" The words came out before he could stop himself; because he was tired, or scared, or lonely, or just because all of these months of giving her plausible emotional deniability for their..._whatever_...was finally catching up with him.

T'Pring froze, and Jim did, too.

Maybe she didn't realize he was joking. Or maybe he wasn't joking so much as fishing.

Changing the subject before he could think too much about it, Jim said, "So how was the reception at the Vulcan consulate?"

T'Pring looked away. "I had no idea it would only be for unbonded Vulcans in the area," she said, and Jim found himself running his tongue over his teeth.

This slow dance between them was an oasis from worry and stress when he was waiting for the war to start. But now they were at war and he didn't feel like dancing anymore.

The defeat of Nero had been _fast, _if not easy. There was no time to reflect; he hadn't realized how much of a Godsend that was. The Enterprise had survived the Romulan Empire's first offensive of this war as much by luck as by his brilliance...and this war would not be easy, and he had enough intel to know it wouldn't be fast.

The future was stretching before him, dark and terrifying, and he suddenly found himself wanting, no _needing_, one sure thing.

"A meat market," he said, rubbing his jaw and not meeting her eyes.

"Is that meat with two ee's or with an e and an a?" said T'Pring.

Jim looked up at her, but before he could answer, she said, "I think with an 'a' would describe it best," and raised an eyebrow.

Letting loose a low chuckle, he said, "Yes. And yes, that is how it is spelled."

T'Pring looked away; he could see the slight hardening of her jaw. "The conversations were...uncomfortable."

"You know," he said, licking his lips, "One of the easiest ways to bow out gracefully from those conversations is to mention that you're already with someone."

"That would be lying," said T'Pring.

"Meet me at Oortz Station," said Jim. "We're on our way there for repairs and will be stuck there for a few days."

T'Pring blinked. "How did your ship become damaged while star mapping?"

"It doesn't matter," said Jim. He couldn't burden her with that. "Just come see me. We can get separate hotel rooms, I don't care. I just need to see you. We've been practically dating for months; let's make it official, for God's sake." The words came out of his mouth in a rush, and he found himself sucking in a deep breath. He knew he loved her, but he hadn't realized how far he'd go - separate hotel rooms, had he suggested that? But he meant it. He needed to know if she was in this.

T'Pring just stared at him.

**A/N:**

If you read and enjoyed, please leave a review! A couple of people suggested that T'Pring needs to claim her man. I have a sneaking suspicion that Jim has to do the claiming, he's that kind of boy (maybe most boys are that kind of boy).

In response to bookdragon: but as you say subtlety is the key! They must think they are the hunter.

If you read and enjoyed, please leave a review - it's the only way Notes and I get paid.


	16. Logic

**Disclaimer. I don't own. I don't profit.**

Special thanks to Beta Notes From the Classroom. Check out her latest, "The Survivors" for a rip roaring tale of Romulans, Pon Farr and more!

**Logic**

T'Pring wanted to talk to James about the comments she'd heard at the Vulcan reception. Vulcans were under represented in Starfleet, but among her fellow expatriates she heard, "Vulcan has lost enough," and "Vulcan protected the people of the Federation for hundreds of years; we have done our part."

It was illogical. Vulcan was no more. Whatever their people had done hundreds of years ago did not compensate for _now_. She and her fellow expatriates _owed _their existence and prosperity to the remaining peoples of the Federation.

She was thinking of joining the fleet to repay that debt. It was logical. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few.

But James' comment, "Thinking of enlisting 'cause you just can't stay away from me?" threw her off balance.

Maybe her reasons were not so logical.

Before she'd even recovered her equilibrium he said, "Just come see me. We can get separate hotel rooms; I don't care. I just need to see you. We've been practically dating for months. Let's make it official, for God's sake."

T'Pring stared at the screen trying to parse James' words. Dating. To go out socially with platonic intent or _other_. In instances of _other_ to determine romantic compatibility - long term or _other_.

Practically. In effect; virtually. _Practically_ dating. Were their phone calls and emails designed to determine their compatibility? Because that was ridiculous. No matter what they felt towards each other, they simply _weren't_ compatible as more than friends - serial monogamy aside, there were other unsettling incompatible aspects of his sexuality. Aspects like wandering eyes and..._pornography_. It was a horrible, unfortunate aspect of their varying biology, but it was true.

Separate rooms. She could go as his friend.

She swallowed. Did she really think they would be in separate rooms? That her control was that immense? No.

"T'Pring," James said, and she could see him running his tongue over his teeth, his jaw very hard.

Taking a breath, she said, "I do not think that is a good idea." Without a bondmate in her head, she'd be tempted to bond with him.

For a moment James said nothing, and T'Pring felt her heart settling low to her hip.

Slumping his shoulders slightly, he said, "Of course."

On his end there was a chime. His eyes slid to the side and he said, "That is a priority one call from Starfleet."

"You must take it," said T'Pring, her heart beating fast in relief and fear at once.

Without meeting her eyes, he said, "Right." And then the screen went black.

x x x x

Nyota had some unexpected free time. But the link with Spock was humming - which either meant he was working or...

"Computer, contact Captain James T. Kirk," she said into her monitor. It was the best way to find out if Spock was working without bothering him. And if Spock was working, she could at least catch up with Jim. The war had been dragging on for three and a half long months now, and he was usually near the thick of it.

But apparently not now. Her monitor blinked to life and there was the captain, sitting in the dark, with what appeared to be the end of a lollipop sticking out of his mouth.

"Hey, Commander," he said, not looking at her, hand on some controls in his lap. "Your hubby is currently the Mongolian horde and he's getting the best of me. Could you distract him, pullease?"

_Hello, Nyota,_ sounded Spock's voice in her mind.

Jim's comm chimed. He looked to the side but then said, "Just Carol."

_Carol?_ Thought Spock.

"Carol?" said Nyota aloud.

"Carol Marcus," said Jim, popping the stick out of his mouth - it _was_ a lollipop. "I met her on Oortz Station. We're dating."

Nyota's heart...well, it sort of went dim.

She felt something like a mental sigh from Spock. He didn't understand why she was so interested in Jim's love life. She pursed her lips. _Because he's our friend, he's lonely, and because I am human with two X chromosomes._

Ignoring his second mental sigh, she said, "What happened to T'Pring?"

Putting the lollipop back into his mouth and focusing hard on his other monitor, Jim said with startling articulation, "Between the physical and cultural distance it was too much - especially in the time I have. Sometimes love doesn't work out."

Surprised by how sad she suddenly felt, Nyota said nothing. Jim's words were so...

_Logical_, thought Spock.

_What happened to no win scenarios? _ Nyota thought, but did not say it out loud.

Instead she said, "Well, are you going to call her?"

"T'Pring? No, better to quit cold turkey," said Jim.

"No, I meant Carol."

"Nah," said Jim with a shrug. And then suddenly animated, he shouted, "What the fuck, Spock! You're giving my boys the fucking plague?"

Desperate to lighten the mood, Nyota was about to say, "Let me try and distract him for you," but before the words left her lips, the klaxons went off behind Jim.

She tensed, and she felt Spock do the same, as though they were there, as though they could help.

"Fuck!" shouted Jim, throwing down his game controls. He didn't bother to say goodbye or turn off the comm. Nyota and Spock found themselves staring at his quarters. And then the screen went to static, and then to black.

She had no desire to distract Spock and he had no desire to be distracted. Jim's words "_in the time I have"_ rang in both their minds. Had he meant the time he had left?

x x x x

T'Pring was alone in her head. She hadn't noticed it before James' call - what turned out to be his last call, but she had, for lack of a better description, formed a _human_ bond with him. A bond of words and expectations, not telepathy.

She sent him a few emails after his invitation to Oortz station. And he had replied. However...

_Before_ that last conversation, his emails tended to be long, strangely formal, detailed affairs: observations about human or alien cultures, psychology, or books he was reading - books they often read at the same time. _After, _if he wrote her at all, it was just terse notes, and she had not received one of those in weeks.

Now it was her break at the hospital, but she didn't bother to check her comm. There would only be work messages. Her time was better spent in meditation, or as she was doing today, going for a quick walk outside. She looked up at the alien cerulean sky. Birds darted overhead. Aside from the flags hanging at half mast, there was no visible sign that they were at war.

...Because of the humans and other aliens light years away in the vacuum of space defending her.

News of the casualties kept coming in. There were moments when she was a few clicks away from filling out the enlistment application. Only Jim's words stopped her. _Thinking of enlisting 'cause you just can't stay away from me?_

If her motivation was emotional, it was _possibly _illogical. But how did one quantify how much was emotion and how much of her desire to join was based on logic? Vulcans _were _under represented and doctors of xenomedicine _were_ desperately needed. But she _missed_ James. Profoundly. And she was deeply frightened for him.

She'd been meditating on the matter for months and had not come to a satisfactory conclusion.

Entering the hospital, she passed by the kiosk near the front desk. Normally she did not stop, but today she was 3.53 minutes ahead of schedule, and she was thirsty. Picking up some grape juice, she went to the register to scan her purchases. Along the counter were the shimmering images of popular news periodicals ready for download. With titles like "Galoxopolitan" and "Interstellar Home," they weren't the sort of thing T'Pring was generally interested in. But today on the cover of "People" was a picture of Doctor Carol Marcus. T'Pring was an avid follower of her work. Once a scientist exploring terraforming, Dr. Marcus had stumbled upon a discovery that lent itself to tissue regeneration.

Curious as to what Dr. Marcus was doing on the cover of such a vapid publication, T'Pring downloaded the issue to her comm, made her purchase, and went back to work.

It was only later at home in her apartment that she was able to read her purchase. None of the scientific information contained in the article was new. In fact, it was rather out of date. What caught her eye was the personal information about Dr. Marcus.

"_...the beautiful and brilliant Dr. Marcus has also recently been romantically linked to Captain James T. Kirk..."_

It was as if her chair had been knocked out from under her. T'Pring's mouth went dry and her body felt hollow.

Of course. He'd moved on. He was a serial monogamist.

She was, illogically, devastated.

But it did make thinking logically easier.

x x x x

A few days later Spock was on T'Pring's monitor. He sat at a desk, his fingers steepled in front of him. There were no windows behind him. The room was stark and very white.

"I am a logical choice," T'Pring said. "Besides my skill in xenomedicine, I am young and unbonded. I am as strong as an average human male, and with training I will be stronger."

Raising an eyebrow, Spock gazed down at a PADD. "Of course I will write you a recommendation, T'Pring. However, you should consider that the Captain's word might carry more weight. He is human and most of your fellow service -"

"No," said T'Pring.

She'd blundered with James, implied through actions something that was not. She had not understood what she was doing. Not really. But she had taken advantage of the situation - of his emotions, however briefly they might have existed, too readily.

Spock looked up at her. "He does not carry grudges, T'Pring."

Grudge. A feeling of ill will or resentment.

"Of course," she said, slightly annoyed that Spock would think she would believe that of James. "That would be illogical."

Spock tilted his head.

"This matter does not concern the captain," T'Pring said. It _could not_ concern him. That would throw all her logical calculus in jeopardy. She would embark on this venture, logically, knowing her life was at risk, that there would be hardships and unpleasantness. And James would not be waiting for her at the end of the tunnel.

"Very well," said Spock, looking down at the PADD once more.

x x x x

Nyota sat at the table at the bar in San Francisco, a bottle of beer untouched in front of her, both hands on her lap. It was hardly noon and she wasn't in the mood to drink. Spock sat very close to her, almost too close, like he was afraid she might disappear. Which, she supposed, she would, when they resumed their separate assignments. But right now they were on leave. And their friends were here.

Behind her she could feel the brisk rush of fall air through the open door.

Spock snuck a hand into hers, and she squeezed and smiled. Across from them were Christine and McCoy sitting very close to one another. Scotty and Selek - Elder Spock from the alternate universe - were also in attendance.

As always, Nyota had to consciously keep herself from staring at the elderly half-Vulcan. She could drive herself mad trying to see her Spock in Selek's craggy features.

Somewhere in the din of the bar, Chekov was saying, "This was inwented in Russia -" but Nyota didn't catch the rest.

"Can ya believe it," said Scotty, tipping back a glass. His nose was already red, and his voice was slightly slurred. "Shore leave on Earth!"

"Well, I'll take it," said Christine, tipping back a glass of her own.

"I'll take it, too!" Nyota said. It was so good to see them again. "How did you escape from the front?" Nyota asked.

McCoy gazed down into his drink. Christine shook her head and shrugged.

"No one knows," said Scotty, "No one but the Captain. Some super secret mission -"

Noticing McCoy's look of alarm, Nyota said, "Speaking of Jim, where is he?" Super secret missions weren't the best topic for bars.

Snorting, McCoy said, "Off being a masochist."

At that moment, Selek stood up from his chair. "Jim!" said the elderly man - and Nyota couldn't help but notice the deep affection in his voice.

Nyota and Spock both stood and turned. There was Jim, looking a little thinner and with dark circles under his eyes.

_But in one piece_, thought Spock, and she felt the bond between them flood with relief.

Despite his obvious exhaustion, Jim smiled. Coming over, he smacked Spock on the back and gave Nyota a light hug. Over her shoulder he said warmly, "Hey, Old Man." As he released her, Nyota turned - just in time to see Selek raising an eyebrow, his lips upturned.

They all sat down again, Jim on the side of Nyota opposite Spock. As they did a curtain of din rose up around them - Scotty and Selek were falling into a debate about warp coil fields, Spock was talking to Len about tissue regeneration, and someone somewhere had turned up the music.

Leaning in, Nyota said to Jim, "Where's Carol? I thought I might get to meet her."

Shrugging, Jim said, "I broke up with her."

Nyota sat up straight and blinked, "Oh." That had only lasted what - 4 months?

"It just didn't feel right," Jim said and shrugged again. Someone handed him a bottle of beer and he took off the cap.

Across the table, Christine leaned forward and said to him. "You're just afraid of strong women."

"That's bullshit," said Jim, his eyes on Christine, his voice going bitter. "I like - _liked_, T'Pring. And she is strong."

_We should tell him! _ Nyota thought across the bond.

_T'Pring said the issue did not concern him, _Spock thought. She could feel him becoming very uncomfortable. _I believe it would be a breach of trust if I interfered. _

Nyota felt her brows knit together. That didn't mean Spock didn't _want _to tell Jim.

"Who?" said Selek.

"Well, did you see her?" Len asked.

"T'Pring," said Christine, "was emotionally unavailable and doesn't count."

"T'Pring?" repeated Selek.

Leaning towards Christine, brows furrowed, Jim said, "She wasn't _emotionally _unavailable. And of all people to talk about emotional -"

Stopping abruptly, Jim sat up and tipped his bottle back. Nyota blinked. She and Spock picked on Jim all the time, and Jim dished right back, but there was something in the way Christine and Jim needled one another. She shook her head. Like an old married couple. Scratch that. Like an old _divorced _couple.

"And to answer your question, Bones, no," Jim said, eying his bottle. "She's not answering her comm. I even called her work in San Diego."

And then Nyota couldn't take it anymore. "She's probably here, Jim! She applied to officers training school; she asked Spock to write her recommendation, and they're doing interviews today. She probably turned her comm off..."

Across the table, Christine, Len, and Selek all blinked. But what struck her was the feeling crossing the bond. Spock was _relieved_.

She sighed. Vulcans.

"T'Pring?" said Selek again. "The same?"

Meeting his eyes, Spock and Nyota said, "Yes," in unison.

"I think, Jim, you should -" Turning to put her hand on Jim's shoulder, Nyota found herself staring at an empty chair.

"Well," said Selek. "That is unexpected."

_About time_ thought Nyota's Spock, and she smiled.

Glancing quickly toward the door, she just caught sight of Jim leaving. He looked absolutely _furious_.

**A/N:**

I hope that everyone isn't furious at T'Pring. She's being very Vulcan, and given that she is Vulcan, that's only fair.

...Well, I think Jim's allowed to be a little bit pissed.

If you read and enjoyed, please leave a review. Although I kind of think of fanfic as community service (hey, I'm providing free entertainment for everyone!) it is really nice to get a thank you now and then. Hugs and kisses to everyone who's been reviewing so faithfully - you're the reason I'm still writing.


	17. Fury

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! It really helps me keep going.

Special thanks to Notes from the Classroom. If you haven't read her latest, "The Survivors" (in my faves) you've missed out!

**Fury**

T'Pring arrived at the grounds of Starfleet Academy at 10:45 am, just 15 minutes before her scheduled interview, a small travel bag slung over her shoulder. This hardly left time to meditate and she _needed_ to meditate.

Because she was a graduate of the Vulcan Science Academy, a Federation accredited institution, she did not need to receive a degree from the Academy. She _did_ have to apply and be interviewed for officer training school, and of course complete basic training - informally known as "boot camp."

For her interview, Starfleet required specific documentation, actual _paper _documentation, that verified her species and gave her residency status, age, etc. She had needed to go to the Vulcan consulate in San Francisco to get her documents. All had gone well until the clerk asked what the documentation was for. When he learned an _unbonded female_ graduate of the VSA was going into Starfleet, he had called up a "mediator" to point out the flaws in her logic.

Did she not realize that it was illogical for a female Vulcan to put her life at risk when the most logical thing she could do for her people was bond and have children?

T'Pring had countered by saying _all_ the people of the Federation were _their people_ and her skills were needed desperately.

Now as she criss-crossed the campus walkways to the scheduled interview location, she was brimming with fury. She consciously moderated the force of her footfalls to assure there was no outward sign.

She was approaching the interview building when she was intercepted by a young Vulcan woman in dress uniform. T'Pring found herself almost sighing with relief. She wasn't the _only _one.

"Doctor T'Pring?" the young woman said.

"Yes," T'Pring said, stepping closer to her. The woman was slightly taller than she was, her skin cast a little greener, her hair lighter in color - not quite as light as James' but...Mentally she reprimanded herself. Making comparisons to James was not beneficial to her state of mind.

"My name is Cadet T'Pol," she said. T'Pring restrained an urge to raise an eyebrow - named after the first Vulcan participant in Starfleet, a known eccentric. How interesting.

"Most of the campus is on lockdown right now," T'Pol said. "Unfortunately, your interview has been postponed until tomorrow."

T'Pring tilted her head. She did have a few more leave days scheduled. She'd planned to spend it visiting T'Rene and her new baby girl and extended family. This wasn't terribly inconvenient. It was, however, very curious.

"Do not think this is a matter of human disorganization," T'Pol said quickly, almost defensively. "I would remind you that we are at war."

T'Pring blinked and then realized that T'Pol probably was subjected to the same stereotypes about humans as T'Pring herself was.

"I work with humans," T'Pring said. "That was not my first thought."

T'Pol seemed to relax just a fraction. "I see," the young woman said. "I have been ordered to give you a tour of the campus and answer any questions you might have about your training."

"Very well," said T'Pring.

Eyeing her bag, T'Pol said, "Starfleet has put aside rooms for the candidates who are being rescheduled in the officers quarters. You can leave your things there."

A few minutes later they were in the foyer of an apartment that looked very much like the ones T'Pring had stayed in with James. Dropping her bags, she did her best not to think about it.

"I will show you the facilities here when we are done with the rest of the tour," T'Pol said, leading her out of the building. "Now let us go to the basic training barracks. You will have 13 weeks of basic training, and then you will begin officer training. Since doctors of xenomedicine are in short supply, they will put you on an accelerated track. You will cover the core courses here in three months and finish the rest as time allows at your field assignment. You will be active in approximately six months and one week..."

Three hours later they were stepping off the lift and approaching the officers quarters where they had begun. The tour, as much as T'Pol herself, made T'Pring more confident in her decision.

T'Pol and T'Pring's association had been satisfactory enough that T'Pring had confided that she had friends in the area and was thinking of staying with them for the night. T'Pol in turn had opened up a little bit about her studies in engineering - and made oblique references to Starfleet allowing more freedom for young Vulcan females.

T'Pol's comm began to beep. Scanning it briefly, T'Pol said, "Ahh...the definitive interview schedule will be published at 08:00 tomorrow. It might be best to stay here tonight and not spend the night with your associates and then take the shuttle in tomorrow morning as you were considering."

T'Pring nodded, "That would be most logical."

Walking down the hallway, T'Pol said, "The barracks you will be staying in during basic and the the dorm you will be sharing during officer training will be nowhere near as opulent as the officer quarters you will have tonight..."

Her voice drifted off. The door to T'Pring's quarters for the evening was wide open.

They walked into the foyer and T'Pring stared down at her bag. It appeared untouched.

"Strange," said T'Pol. "Come, let me show you how to use the water shower."

Of course, T'Pring did not need an explanation of the facilities. She'd had one. A very _intimate _one. She would not bring that to T'Pol's attention; she would listen politely and everything would be fine. Just. Fine.

From the main living space came a familiar voice that sent shivers down T'Pring's spine and gave her the sensation of her heart leaping from her side to her chest. 

"That won't be necessary, Cadet," James said.

x x x x

In the bar, when Jim first heard that T'Pring had joined Starfleet, he was _furious_.

Because T'Pring hadn't told him, because it was childish to hide it - hello high school! And because it was dangerous and stupid of her to enlist, _damn it; _she had no idea what she was getting into. No one understood until they were in it, the long hours of sustained terror, the survival that was luck more than skill or brains.

And honestly, he was furious because she had Spock write her recommendation. _Spock! _

He was still seething after he tracked down where Starfleet was billeting her for the night.

Playing with the override codes outside the door, he managed to let himself in. The place looked exactly like the unit he'd been parked in after the Battle of Vulcan. That didn't make him feel any brighter. He'd had sex with her against a foyer wall that was painted exactly the same shade of beige...

He clenched his jaw. There was no sign of T'Pring, just a single, black rectangular bag a few feet beyond the door.

He resisted the urge to kick it.

Maybe he was just pissed that she said no to his invitation to Oort. They were perfect for each other - and why didn't she get that? Both of them were brave, ruthless and willing to risk death for one another. More importantly, they could_ live _with one another. They could talk over the comm, go surfing, drink tea or coffee, and do nothing really significant for months and it was still good.

There was the old adage "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," but Jim was beginning to suspect that a rejected man with _honorable_ intentions might be a close second. He had sexual advances turned down more times than he could count and he always took it with a laugh.

Eyeing the bag and imagined delivering a good roundhouse kick - the frame would crumple and the fabric would tear and give around his foot with a satisfying rip.

Rubbing his hand through his hair, he walked out of the foyer and took a deep breath.

He was staring out the window at the bright autumn San Francisco afternoon when he heard footsteps from the foyer. A nearly flat female voice he didn't recognize but had to be Vulcan said, "Strange. Come let me show you the shower."

A vision of his and T'Pring's bodies pressed together, soap and water running between them, flashed through his mind and he felt himself go hot. Turning on his heel, he went back to the foyer. The eyes of a young, female Vulcan cadet fell on his and widened slightly as she entered the main living space.

Something dark and mean uncoiled in Jim's stomach. "That won't be necessary, Cadet," Jim said, looking beyond to see T'Pring staring down at her bag.

T'Pring snapped straight. Eyes fixed on her, Jim said, "I'll take it from here, Cadet. Dismissed."

Saluting sharply, the Vulcan woman turned to leave the room. "Shut the door behind you," Jim added with what would probably be his last bit of professional preservation for a while. He was going to lose his cool. He could feel his anger enveloping him and pulling him under, but he didn't _want_ to stop.

As soon as the door whooshed shut, Jim smiled tightly. Tilting his head in his best Spock imitation, he said, "Shall I show you how to use the shower?"

He wouldn't have thought T'Pring could stand any straighter but she did. Putting her hands behind her back and meeting his eyes she said, "You know that is not necessary." Her voice was perfectly flat, her expression perfectly neutral. So perfectly...Vulcan. Somewhere a little voice inside of him was saying, this wasn't high school drama to her, she was not human, and her reasons for hiding from him weren't human either.

But another part of him still _hurt_. And that was really the reason for his anger wasn't it? He was hurt and reacting like an injured animal, and he should stop. But he couldn't. Stepping closer to her he said, "Just couldn't keep away from me, could you?"

Again with perfect coolness, T'Pring said, "My feelings for you had nothing to do with my potential enlistment."

T'Pring was more controlled than Spock, and the disconnect between her outward expression and her flat tones almost made him miss the chink in her armor, the small hope in her words. But then his brain registered the word "feelings." They were still strong; well, they said Vulcan love did not die, and all was fair in love and war...so...

Stepping very close, Jim said, "Good to know you still have feelings for me."

Swallowing, T'Pring said nothing. He was close enough he could smell the scent of incense in her hair and almost feel the heat radiating off her body.

Feeling absolutely wicked he said, "I respect you for making such an unemotional, _logical_ decision." Holding out a hand he said, "Put 'er there, potential officer candidate T'Pring."

Saying nothing of his bad manners, T'Pring looked down at his hand. She did not move.

Heart beating in his ears, Jim whispered, "Oh, come on, T'Pring. You know you're going to have to manage a handshake or two to get by in Starfleet. It is an ancient human gesture of good will. Or do you have some hard feelings -"

Thrusting her hand into his, T'Pring met his eyes and shook vigorously.

And shook.

And shook.

Her shields were up. He couldn't feel the familiar buzz of connection. However...

Smiling like the fox that had found its way into the hen house, he looked down at their hands. "You know, T'Pring, the average handshake lasts .43 seconds. Now I don't have as accurate an internal chronometer as you, but I'm thinking we're going on over a minute here."

Hearing her swallow audibly, he sighed, met her eyes, and used the handshake to pull her to him. With his other hand he reached up and brushed her cheek. He felt her feverish heat beneath his fingers, but no feeling of vertigo and telepathic connection.

Closing her eyes but not moving away, she said, "I am sure Dr. Marcus would not approve of your...gesture of romantic intent."

He scowled. How the Hell did she hear about _that_? "Well, what she would approve or not approve of really doesn't matter as I broke up with her."

A spark jumped through his hands, and he was falling and finding his feet, and feeling hope that was his, hers, theirs? He couldn't tell, but his anger evaporated, and memories started flashing before his eyes. Pressing his forehead to hers, he let them flicker by. Their time here on Earth, aboard the Romulan ship, on Vulcan, her family...and the fear of the past few months - watching ships explode before his eyes and thinking he might never see her again...

Too late he realized his mistake. Opening his eyes he was about to pull back when he found himself pushed so hard against the opposite wall his teeth rattled. He'd forgotten how strong she was. He found himself getting warm in inconvenient ways.

"You lied to me!" T'Pring said.

He swallowed. "Um..."

"You were not just _star mapping_," she said.

James sighed.

"Why did you not tell me? When you invited me to Oortz station, you could have said."

He scowled again. "Don't you think that would be...pathetic. And just a bit assho-emotionally manipulative?"

T'Pring stared at him for a moment and then abruptly dropped her head. Her body shook, almost imperceptibly, like a leaf in a gentle breeze. "James," she said, "You must understand, I cannot date you..."

His jaw hardened, and then she said, "...because I will bond with you."

Jim blinked. He saw his window, and if he didn't act it would shut permanently. Going forward, he placed one hand on her temples. She shivered and electricity nipped at his finger tips. Smiling into a kiss he placed on her forehead, he reached down and brought her hand to his temple. "Well, just do it already," he whispered.

He hadn't come here planning to bond - he hadn't expected much more than cathartic venting of righteous...something. But he did better when he didn't plan.

Arranging her fingers in the meld position he whispered again, "Just do it." Closing his eyes, he pressed his forehead to hers. He was actually a little afraid; and so elated he almost felt like his feet had left the ground.

He felt a twinge of...guilt...maybe. An emotion that wasn't his. Pulling back and removing her hand, T'Pring said abruptly, "You're afraid."

Catching her hand by the wrist, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Her overly developed sense of moral obligation could get to be a little much. But he supposed he wouldn't love her as much without it. "Now you're being illogical," he said.

She stiffened, and he knew he'd made her a little angry - and also knew that he was right and she knew it.

Meeting her gaze he said, "What I feel, this unease. It is not illogical. It is a life defining event." She blinked at his perfect recitation of her own words. Smiling softly, he stroked her cheek and felt that same lightness of love he had when he'd awoken on the couch with her in front of him. "Someone I respect very much once said that."

Remembering her accusations each time he tried to convince her to stay before, he sobered up. "This time, T'Pring," he said. "I am completely serious." He pulled her hand to his face, eyes on hers. He had the sensation of falling, but not of finding his feet.

x x x x

The edges of T'Pring's vision went completely black. She felt herself being drawn into James' mind. It was the same sort of pull she'd felt before their bodies had joined the first time, something natural that felt predestined, but was _not_. She could pull back. She could leave. She should leave.

But didn't want to.

The familiar emotions she'd come to associate with James coursed through her. She realized that some inconvenient part of her had come to equate his feelings as home. There was lust, that was a given. But there were other things, too. Respect, admiration, dissipating ghosts of anger and apprehension - and that light, bright emotion, _human_ love, that seemed to complement her own feelings, heavy and deep and dark.

Although his feelings were familiar, as the meld deepened she realized James was not the same person she'd known before. He was more focused. Harder. Lonelier. Casual sexual dalliances were a thing of his past.

James' voice rang in her mind. _Are either of us the same person?_ And then his mind, so prone to metaphor, envisioned a familiar house rebuilt. The foundations, the _bones_ remained the same, but the paint was a different color, the layout transformed. It was fascinating.

Emotions gave way to memories. And most of his memories of the near term were terrible.

She understood why he hadn't burdened her with them when he invited her to Oortz. He had been protecting her autonomy, her ability to chose based on rationality and desire, not out of any sense of obligation.

So different from so many of her race now. She remembered the "mediator" from this morning, Tulvouk and the men on the stairs when she'd escaped with T'Rene.

James saw her memories, and she felt something from him; empathy, but also pride.

_You know your own mind, T'Pring. And I'll never take it from you..._

He didn't just love her. He respected her. For what she did to the Romulan Commander. For how she saved T'Rene.

Her mind unfurled, and if he had wanted to escape her, he would not have been able to.

**A/N:**

Well...did you like it?


	18. Wartime

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Special thanks to beta Notes from the Classroom. Check out her latest "My Mother the Ambassador" for Sarek/Amanda and Spock/Uhura goodness.

**Wartime**

"T'Pring, wake up. Wake up."

T'Pring's eyes fluttered open. A cool dry kiss landed on her forehead, and she was breathing in the smell of James' skin and soap and smelling the incense in her hair. She was hot. No, cold - James was hot. She was lying with her back pressed to the back of the couch, James was half on top of her. Neither of them had clothes on.

The bond was just 3 hours old, and discerning where James ended and she began was difficult. With a Vulcan it would not have been so. They would have both closed off their minds and reorientated themselves, but that was something James could not do - yet.

It was not unpleasant. It felt as though every sensory neuron in their bodies had merged, every pleasure magnified. They'd coupled, of course. Several times. It was a well-known fact this happened when a Vulcan first bonded with a sexual creature like a human. T'Pring hadn't tried to stop it. Pleasure kept darker thoughts of the future at bay. Worries about wandering eyes and pornography seemed trivial compared to the risk of his death in the conflict beyond the oasis of Sol System.

He swallowed. _Or your death_, he thought.

Not wanting to move or think, she pulled his body to hers, closed her eyes and hummed at the magnified sensations.

James groaned as his arousal spiked with hers. "T'Pring, Baby, I want this." Yes, yes, he did very much. "But don't you have to call T'Rene?"

Opening her eyes, she found James' alien blue eyes on hers - so black and alien and not alien and familiar and...she blinked at the jumble of their combined thoughts.

_You are right_, she replied but didn't move. Staring at the planes of his cheeks, the slight bend of his nose, and the barely discernible scars, she also saw herself through his eyes. She was sure her face was not as delicate or as symmetrical as he perceived it. Overcome by just how fragile the moment was, she tucked her head between his chin and his neck. They would part so soon. The odds that they would not see each other again were high. She'd seen in his mind how poorly the war was going - she'd not guessed it from the news holos.

"Shhhh..." Jim whispered, kissing the top of her head and pulling her tighter, lust merging with tenderness. "Focus on right now, right now." But she felt something inside him sink even as their increased closeness caused his heart to beat harder in his chest. In defiance of his own words he said, "I know you won't accept a safer posting on Earth."

He was right. And she would have been annoyed if he'd tried to convince her otherwise.

"But I want you on my ship," he said.

Nodding, she nipped at his cheek. She was as comfortable with that as she could be with anything.

"I'll survive 6 months, T'Pring," he whispered.

She raised her eyebrow at the illogic of his statement. His safety was only assured while he remained here on Earth. The _Enterprise_ had secretly escorted a team of Cardassian diplomats to talks on Mars - but came to Earth in an effort to disguise their true location if the Romulans had caught word of the talks. The Federation had intel that the Romulans, overly confident by their string of recent successes, were going to open a second front with the Cardassians.

The Federation hoped the Cardassians would join the cause. James doubted it would happen. _Not until the Romulans made their move on Cardassia; probably would hit Bajor first, though..._

Those were James' thoughts. "Shhhh..." he whispered again. To her and himself.

Smiling tightly he said, "I will survive...6 months and one week." And then his mind became more serious and more focused in a way that was quite _appealing_ and made her go warm in ways that were not conducive to retrieving her comm and calling T'Rene.

"To live our lives in fear of the alternative..." he said.

_Would be illogical,_ she finished for him, rolling him on top of her.

He did not answer. Her lust had tripped across the bond to him and he was bending down to sink his teeth into her shoulder.

x x x x

Jim woke up with a start in darkness. At the foot of the bed T'Pring was sitting in lotus position, illuminated by a street lamp outside the window. She was still wearing only the blouse she'd put on when she'd called T'Rene. A blanket was thrown over her shoulders. Her eyes were closed.

He rolled his head. The tipping motion did not make her sway or even blink as it would only an hour ago. He closed his eyes: she was still there, in his mind, but it wasn't like before. He was completely in his own skin again. He thought that the telepathy had magnified sensations _before_, but now after being fully bonded he knew that had just been a shadow of the full thing.

He wiped his eyes. How had T'Pring and Tulvouk managed not to have sex for five years when it could have been like _this_? The idea still confused and frightened him a little bit - as much as his proclivity towards porn and taking in eye candy confused and frightened her. She could go without sex for_ five_ years. If she ever decided to hold out...

Shaking his head, he reminded himself he liked a challenge. Right. And actually, there was hope.

The comm call with T'Rene had been a very amusing, bumbling, joint effort. They'd both been so unbalanced by the fresh bond, they'd barely managed to put on her blouse and straighten her hair. Which made Jim laugh, which made T'Pring hum from a serotonin rush. And then Jim had watched the whole call through T'Pring's eyes, and it was like seeing it himself. T'Rene's baby was really cute. T'Pring knew he liked kids - he wasn't Spock; but apparently _feeling _how much he liked kids _really_ turned her on. It was illogical that her body responded to his paternal instincts in such a way, considering nothing could come of it without medical intervention - or so she declared as she jumped him.

Carol had responded much the same way to Jim's liking kids - but in Carol it scared him. He always got the idea that he was sort of a walking sperm bank. Which was why they never actually got around to it; it never felt right...

And...he blinked. Something now wasn't quite right. It hit him so suddenly it shocked T'Pring out of her trance.

She blinked at him. "I am not opposed, but it is 0100 local time..."

"We have to do it now, before you're a cadet - before your interview, too!" Jim said, rolling from the bed and hopping out of the room to find his clothes. "And Pike will do it!" He called back to her. He hoped.

x x x x

Earth looked beautiful from the _Enterprise's_ observation deck. No matter how many times she saw it, it took Nyota's breath away. Still, she stifled a yawn; it was a little early.

_0600,_ thought Spock.

An hour ago, Jim had woken them with a comm call. Before Nyota was even fully awake, and Spock wasn't fully out of his meditative trance, Jim had fired off, "T'Pring and I are getting married and we want you to come. Sorry for the short notice, but it will just look better if we're already married and not like we met and I courted her as a superior officer." Reddening, he said, "Uh, no offense. Will Spock be my best man? All he has to do is hold the rings."

Nyota nodded, more automatically than in comprehension, and Jim said, "Great! Thanks, see you!" and disappeared in a Kirkish whirlwind.

Now on the _Enterprise's_ deck she looked over at the bride and groom. Jim was uncharacteristically still, decked out in his dress uniform. T'Pring was wearing a very classy dark lavender suit that she undoubtedly would wear to her interview. They had eyes only for each other. Jim was smiling, T'Pring was flushed slightly green.

_We were the same,_ thought Spock.

Nyota smiled at the memory; they _were_ the same at their wedding, but in reverse, obviously.

She looked around. Len and Christine were there, as were Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov, Admiral Pike and his wife. T'Rene, with a baby sleeping in her arms, and her parents were there, too. The baby was _really _cute; just looking at her made Nyota's stomach flutter with happiness.

Beside her she felt Spock swallow uncomfortably. Before she could narrow her eyes in his direction Admiral Pike, leaning a little stiffly on a cane, began to speak. "Dearly beloved..."

T'Pring abruptly turned her head to look at the Admiral. Beside her Jim shrugged and smiled at him.

Coughing into his hand, Pike said, "Excuse me. Esteemed _friends _and _colleagues,_ we are gathered here this morning, very, very, early..."

"To see Hell freeze over," said Len very softly. Nyota's and Spock's eyes went wide. Looking over at the doctor, Nyota caught him grinning - right up until Christine's elbow lurched into his side.

Fortunately, T'Pring and Jim seemed oblivious.

The rest of the ceremony proceeded without further commentary from Len. Jim smiling all the while until Pike reached the "until death do you part" line. A shadow passed over Jim's face very quickly - perhaps it was echoed in all the faces of the service people in attendance. Death was too real since the beginning of the Romulan - Federation war.

Spock softly took Nyota's hand. In front of them T'Pring said, "I do," Jim smiled again, and it seemed like everyone in the room let out a collective breath.

A few moments later Jim declared his own "I do," and Pike coughed again uncomfortably. "Will you be kissing the bride?"

_I doubt it,_ thought Spock.

Nyota scowled and looked over at him.

Raising his eyebrows, Spock answered her unformulated question. _ She is full Vulcan and cannot kiss. Nor would have the inclination, especially in public._

Still scowling, Nyota looked back at Jim and T'Pring.

T'Pring held up two fingers and Jim met them with two of his own. Then she leaned forward slightly and Jim kissed her quickly. T'Pring returned it just as quickly, but without any hint of awkwardness.

Nyota started clapping happily with the rest of the crowd. The bond with Spock blinked, for lack of a better word, with shock...and then something occurred to her. _Why didn't you think T'Pring could kiss?_

"It appears the baby has awoken," said Spock, the bond going suddenly silent. "Perhaps you would like to go over and examine it...introduce...say hello?"

Nyota didn't need the bond to sense desperation. She narrowed her eyes but then heard Jim laughing. She looked over and he was in a crowd around the little girl, making faces and holding out two fingers. T'Pring was beside him, giving Christine an odd look.

"Oh, wow!" said Jim. "I can feel her _smiling _through my fingers."

Looking back to her partner, Nyota raised an eyebrow. Spock put his hands behind his back.

"I'll let you off..." she said.

Spock's frame relaxed slightly. Over by T'Rene, she heard Len say, "Isn't that somethin'? What a little darlin'."

Nyota smiled a wide, wicked smile. "_That_ hook." Lacing her arm in his and pulling him forward, she said, "But you're coming with me to see the baby."

The sensation that crossed the bond could only be described as a whimper.

Nyota managed to keep Spock in T'Rene and baby T'Elle's company all of 30 seconds. Spock claimed it was 30.5. And then he escaped to a corner to talk warp coils with Scotty. It didn't matter., Nyota was having a great time anyway. You _could _feel the baby smiling through her fingers even though her little cheeks didn't even twitch.

Bouncing T'Elle in his arms, with her hand outstretched to his cheek, Jim was laughing. "What is it with me and Vulcan women? So, sorry sweetie, I'm already taken. But you are cute."

Standing very close to him, T'Pring was watching the baby intently, her features set in stone, but Nyota was almost sure she heard a barely perceptible hum.

And then throughout the room, Jim's comm and the comm's of all his fellow _Enterprise_ officers went off.

Jim quickly handed the baby back to T'Rene. He glanced down at his comm and the corners of his lips tipped downward. Around the room a hush settled.

"We have to leave," he said softly.

Watching T'Pring's body stiffen, Nyota had to restrain herself from putting a hand on the Vulcan woman's back.

"Of course," T'Pring said, putting her hands behind her back, her voice perfectly neutral.

Tucking her head, Nyota turned around and met Spock's eyes. Their own separation would come soon.

Hearing Jim whisper, "It's just one long honeymoon with me," Nyota looked back.

Jim was kissing the top of T'Pring's head.

"Sarcasm," said T'Pring, eyes widening in the greatest display of emotion Nyota had yet seen from her. "_Fascinating_."

Jim chuckled, and Nyota smiled softly to herself and walked away.

x x x x

6 months, 1 week, and 3 days after marrying Captain James T. Kirk, Lieutenant T'Pring pulled herself from the rubble of an escape pod in a forest on the planet Bajor.

The Romulans had launched an assault on this planet. Possessing abundant water, it was relatively primitive with weak defenses. The local Bajoran majority was at constant odds with a small persecuted Cardassian minority. Close to the Cardassian homeworld, the Romulans undoubtably saw it as an easy conquest and the perfect stepping stone.

The _Enterprise_ had intervened. They had not been particularly successful.

Looking up into the sky, T'Pring saw two stars above her. One appeared to duck and dodge, but the other followed. They collided in a burst of flame.

Beside her she heard Dr. McCoy gasp.

"Is Jim..." said Nurse Chapel.

The Nurse didn't finish. She didn't have to. James had given general evacuation orders but stayed aboard the _Enterprise_ in order to maneuver it into their Romulan adversaries. Auto-pilot would not have been enough.

T'Pring took in a breath to quiet the sound of her heart hammering in her ears and _focus_. Closing her eyes she said, "No, he is alive. But unconscious." Scotty's auto-transporter plan must have worked.

Appearing next to them, Lieutenant Commander Chekov took out a tricorder. "My scanners are useless past 50 meters. It is the tenurite in the region."

Beside him the voice of the First Officer Sulu said, "Well, it will keep any passing Romulans from finding us...just as the Captain said." Turning to T'Pring he said, "Can you find him...with your bond?"

Nodding, she said, "Yes, sir."

Behind them came moans. "I'll take care of them," Dr. McCoy said. "You find Jim."

Nurse Chapel handed T'Pring her own medical kit. "Take it!"

T'Pring nodded at the woman and took the kit. She had been worried about working with Nurse Chapel, but it turned out even Vulcan territorial instincts could be subverted by the need for survival.

Slinging the kit over her shoulder, she headed off into the forest. Despite the rocky terrain, she moved quickly. The gravity reminded her of Earth. The air was cool but slightly humid. Around her the tall trees were somewhat reminiscent of pines but smelled more floral.

For a few minutes the bond was barely discernible, and then it blossomed into a bright light of pain.

"James," she said aloud. _I am coming._

She felt his relief in knowing she was alive, but he hurt too much for any further acknowledgement. Pain spilled both from something lodged in the right side of his chest, and from watching the _Enterprise_ consume itself in the sky above their heads.

James joked with her that the only other woman T'Pring would have to contend with was the _Enterprise._ That wasn't quite true. Or it would have been true if T'Pring weren't Vulcan. James was physically and emotionally faithful to her. _Mentally_ however his eyes did wander, and his mind would take off in inconvenient trajectories before he was even aware it had left.

To T'Pring's chargin, even unorthodox methods of controlling his wandering mind, comm sex and bond sex, did not ameliorate the problem - though James did enjoy both. And knowing how far T'Pring was going outside of her comfort zone for him made his emotional attachment to her even stronger. But literally minutes afterwards his eyes would slide down the legs of a passing female crew member - and the distance between them in her six months of training, and now their careers, kept her from being able to stake her claim afterwards.

It was hard not to worry that someday his hands would follow his eyes. But to worry was illogical. Being bonded to him was an exercise in self-control and holding on while letting go.

T'Pring hopped over a fallen log and felt the bond go momentarily quiet. He was unconscious again. She quickened her speed.

A few moments later she felt his pain return as he awoke again. She rounded a tree and saw him. A shard of something - perhaps bulkhead, was protruding from his chest. His hands were wrapped around it, but his eyes were trained on the remnants of his ship in the sky, a profound sense of loss washing through him.

T'Pring did not begrudge him mourning his "mistress." Loving one's job, or one's ship, was a human mechanism for pouring themselves into duty - and as a Vulcan she could respect giving duty its due.

A twig snapped beneath her feet as she rushed forward and knelt beside him. He turned his head and the bond hummed with happiness through his pain. T'Pring was struck by how much he idealized her. She was sure the sun did not halo behind her in quite that way.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "I'll survive. You won't escape me so easily."

T'Pring raised an eyebrow. A few neurons in her mind sent off small waves of serotonin as they always did when he employed humor.

She wished she could think of some witty reply but could not. Pulling a tricorder from her kit, she read the readings and said, "You will."

Swallowing in relief, he said, "Good." Then, too tired to speak anymore, he reached to her through the bond. _ As soon as we can, we must reach out to the Bajoran resistance...help them if we can...unite the Bajoran and Cardassian factions here._

_You have a new mistress already, _thought T'Pring without jealousy. She was proud of him, despite pain and exhaustion already focused on what needed to be done.

She felt him smile, felt the bond blossom with that light bright feeling, but was too focused on reading the tricorder again to look up. "I can't remove it here," she said, eyeing the long slender piece of what was indeed shattered bulkhead in his chest.

She felt James' comprehension. He nodded.

Taking out a hypo, she hit him with a pain killer. She didn't have much time. Not even enough to let the hypo work. She pulled him as gently as she could into her arms. He was bulky, and it was awkward, but physical training, Vulcan strength and Bajoran gravity would let her manage.

She felt Jim bite back a groan of pain. He didn't question her haste, though. "Just one long honeymoon with me," he gasped instead.

T'Pring's mind sparked. If he were Vulcan his mind would not wander, but she would not have his fascinating sense of humor either - and perhaps not the same utter trust in the strength of her mind and logic.

Nodding as she set off through the trees, she squeezed him tightly. "I am satisfied with it," she said.

**A/N:**

One more chapter to go! I also have some cute (sexy?) James/T'Pring oneshots planned, so you may want to story alert me if you're interested...and I'm thinking of doing a new version of Amok Time where Kirk wins and decides to claim his prize.

In the meantime, if you want a beautiful T'Pring piece I recommend polar-realm's "Nothing's a Gift It's All On Loan" in my faves.

Reviews are love - and will help me keep writing! Are also a great way for you to let me know what you want to see next.


	19. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.**

Special thanks to Beta Notes From the Classroom. Check out her latest, "My Mother the Ambassador" in my faves for Amanda/Sarek, pre-Spock/Nyota goodness.

**Epilogue**

"What do you mean my credit is denied?" Andrea Olson said.

The attendant at the terminal gangway on Deep Space 9 blinked his 3 orange ovoid eyes. "I mean exactly what I said. You will not be receiving passage to Earth on our ship."

"I have powerful friends!" Andrea said. Komack had extended her that line of credit, her _lover_ _Admiral _Komack. And made her work for it, too.

Looking down at a PADD and pressing a few buttons with a yellow scaly finger, the attendant said, "Good. Call them."

And then without a backwards glance, he turned on a shimmering force field partition between him and Andrea and set off down the gangway.

Flushing, Andrea turned and made her way down the corridor of the space station. Outside she could see the blue-green orb of Bajor. It was pretty, but still a backwater hole. How had she let the two Bajoran frieghter hands convince her to visit? And then she remembered two pairs of hands and two mouths of two virile well-toned bodies - so different from Komack's cold fatty folds and wrinkles. She smiled. That was how.

But still, she didn't want to _stay_ here. There must be some mistake. She saw a bar up ahead, nearly empty before the evening rush. The perfect place to sit down and check her comm.

Settling herself into a booth, she repeated an order three times to the lizard man bartender, just in case he hadn't heard her.

She pulled out her comm and tapped the subspace nets and smiled. Komack was online! She tapped in, _Honey, the credit line you extended me was just denied! You need to talk to someone _immediately_ and fix this mistake._

He didn't reply right away, and she scowled. Maybe she should call - but if he was at home it might alert his wife. That would be inconvenient.

Her comm blinked with a message from Komack. _There is no mistake. I've cut you off._

Andrea's mouth dropped. After all she'd given him! She'd sacrificed her career for him. Kept a poorly paying computer support position in Starfleet just to be close to him, when she could have obviously made far more money in the private sector. Perhaps not as much as her allowance from him, but still...

Frowning, she typed in,_ I have some lovely photos from our trip to Risa. Perhaps your wife would like to see them? _

Komak's reply was almost immediate. _ She knows. Goodbye, Andrea._

The little icon he used, a picture of himself in his mid-twenties when he was still naturally handsome and hadn't been told by his doctors to lay off the liposuction, flickered away.

Andrea stared at the blank screen, her face contorted, her nostrils flared. She almost cried. She'd make him pay. Somehow. But first she'd have to get back to Earth.

From the bar around her she heard some idiot say, "Good afternoon, Vlrak! Did the eggs hatch yet?"

Looking up, Andrea caught sight of the idiot - apparently addressing Lizard Man the bartender. Golden haired, he wore command yellow and was approaching the bar. She tilted her head. He looked familiar. Her eyes widened; it was Captain Kirk. James T. Kirk. The last man to serve with her brother all those years ago.

At least by appearance he was in his mid to late thirties, although since Vulcan scientists had introduced telomerase and P16INK4A inhibitors human longevity had more than doubled, and it was hard to say. She did the math in her head. He was probably closer to sixty.

But really, why not get plastic surgery, too? Andrea herself didn't let herself look a day over 22. The man must be lazy. At least he was fit, though - his shoulders were toned, his waist wasn't padded and he had a tight ass. She tilted her head.

The bartender looked up and flicked out a long tongue far too close to a glass he was cleaning. "Yesssshhhhh. One. She is very healthy and it is not custom to invite to friends until all three are hatched. I hope the doctor does not mind."

"If you say she's healthy," said the man. "But come on, let me see a holo, at least!"

"Of course! One moooment," hissed the bartender, disappearing into the back as Kirk slipped onto a stool. As the bartender disappeared into the back, Kirk spun around and surveyed the bar.

His eyes fell on Andrea. She pretended to be absorbed in her comm as he looked her up and down - she knew what he was taking in. Blonde hair perfectly coiffed. A delicately featured face above ample breasts, nipped waist and long legs all courtesy of the finest plastic surgeons. She crossed her legs, just to taunt him. When she felt his eyes come back to her head, she lowered her comm and smiled.

He blinked and then smiled back, but then the bartender came back with a holo and the man spun away too quickly.

Andrea scowled slightly. However, his distraction gave her a chance to read up on what Mr. Kirk had been up to since Nero. Connecting her comm to the subspace net again she blinked at what she saw. Apparently he had led the Bajoran-Cardassian alliance against the Romulan occupation here. After the discovery of the wormhole nearby, he had been given command of Deep Space 9. There were a few bio-holos about him, and he'd even written a few books - dull looking things about military technology. She couldn't be concerned with his dullness, though. She needed a ticket back to Earth, and the royalties from his books and bio-holos must mean he had a pretty stash of credits.

She licked her lips. Maybe he was worth more than just a ticket back to Earth.

A crowd of people stepped up to the bar. Lizard Man left Captain Kirk alone with a holo of a hideous looking pink, scaly, maggot thing.

This was her opening.

Picking up her drink, she stepped up to the bar stool next to him. "Excuse, me, are you Captain Kirk?"

He turned his eyes away from the maggot and met Andrea's own. "Yes, I am," he said with a smile that was too confident for his unsculpted face.

"My brother served with you," Andrea said. Licking her lips, she watched his gaze briefly flick to her tongue.

Scowling slightly he said, "Really? What is your name?"

"Olson," she said. "Andrea Olson. He helped you dismantle the drill on Vulcan..."

"Oh," he said. Eyes widening, he took her hand and Andrea did her best not to look smug. She noticed for the first time he was wearing a wedding ring and stifled as smirk. Wives were so convenient for blackmail.

"Oh...I'm sorry. He was a..." Kirk looked down briefly and then met her gaze again. "A very brave guy."

And then swallowing, he dropped her hand and raised his own to signal the bartender. "That drink's on me," he said.

Andrea sat down on the stool next to him, leaned in, and said a little breathlessly, "Thank you."

He blinked, obviously wondering at his fantastic luck at having a woman like her seemingly enamored with him. And then he turned his attention back to the maggot. Andrea was used to her beauty making men shy, but she needed things to move along a little more quickly if she was going to get her ticket home...or whatever.

"Is that..." she struggled to keep the revulsion out of her voice. "The Lizard Man's...baby."

He looked quickly over to her and then ran his tongue over his teeth in a way that was actually kind of sexy.

"Vlrak, he's a Gorn," said Kirk. "And yes, it is his kid." Turning back to the holo, he said, "There are two more eggs left to hatch. My _wife _and I are anxious to meet all three little ones. We're good friends with their parents - too bad are own kids are grown and gone."

The bar was noisy. More than enough excuse to lean in a little closer. "Your wife and you have lots of alien friends?" she asked.

He looked down at the bar and smiled tightly. And then looking over to Andrea, face just centimeters from her own, he said, "Well, actually, my wife is Vulcan, so yeah...we're not above interspecies mingling." He winked at her.

Andrea blinked. Vulcan. She knew something about them. She remembered Spock, her computer science professor before she'd been unfairly drummed out of the officer training program. He was beautiful, cruel, and too frigid to lay a hand on her. "Vulcan? I hear that they only have sex every seven years," she said in her most innocent voice.

Kirk looked back down at the bar and chuckled. "No, that's the males...well, they only _need_ sex every seven years. The women actually don't _need_ it ever."

Feeling very confident, she put a consoling hand on his arm. "That sounds...difficult."

He stared at her hand for a moment. "Well," he said. "There are ways they can be brought around."

Andrea laughed in her most musical tones. Squeezing his arm she said, "I would _love _to know how you do that."

He patted the top of her hand and met her eyes. He smiled a tight smile. Her heart pounded in her chest and her mouth actually salivated a little. He really wasn't that bad looking, even if he didn't have plastic surgery. At least he wasn't fat.

"Yes," he said so lowly she had to lean a little closer to hear his voice. He smelled like soap and coffee and man. "I'm sure you would."

Then he picked up her hand and moved it to the bar in front of her. His smile widened, and his eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you would..." He leaned in very close, and she drew back, a little frightened. There was something...ruthless about the smile and the way his eyes glinted. "But like I said, I have a wife and that isn't going to happen, _Sweetheart._"

Andrea blinked.

Standing up, Kirk laughed and shook his head at Lizard Man, who was suddenly too close to them.

From behind her came a feminine voice. "James, are you ready for dinner?"

"I'm coming, Baby," Kirk said turning around.

Andrea hazarded a glance in the direction he was going. A Vulcan woman stood there. She was so...plain. Her face was pretty enough, but she actually had a shock of gray in her dark hair. She wasn't particularly tall, and her breasts were...tiny.

Kirk hooked his arm in hers and pulled her towards the door, but the Vulcan woman stood frozen. Her eyes locked on Andrea and narrowed. "Perhaps we should stop at home first," she said.

Kirk smiled. "Whatever you say, Baby."

Narrowing her eyes slightly at Andrea, the Vulcan woman said, "I do." And then spun so quickly around Kirk nearly fell over. Catching himself he headed to the door with his homely wife, calling back over his shoulder, "See you and the little ones later, Vlark!"

Lizard Man the bartender made a noise that sounded like, "Galuggaluggalug."

Andrea let out a low huff of frustration. What a jerk.

She saw another man in red, also vaguely familiar, come into the bar, a little green _thing_ by his side. "Vlark, would'ja get me a sandwich?" called the man with a noticeable Scottish accent.

Andrea sighed. Well, maybe he'd do.

**_FIN_**

**A/N:**

Andrea is Notes' Character from the fabulous "People Will Say" (and she makes cameos in other fics too). I borrowed her for this. Just wanted to show that Jim is still keeping it in his pants - when appropriate. I think all his playboy behavior probably let him see through Andrea in a heartbeat too.

There is a sequel to this called "A Little Penis Story", hope you like it!

YOU CAN'T PAY ME FOR FANFICTION! But you can support me by checking out my original fiction on Amazon! I have 2 stories, a light "first" contact short story called "Murphy's Star" and a Myth!Loki story called "I Bring the Fire". Both have lovely reviews to recommend them. Both are only 99 cents. (UK 77p, DE 0,86 EU).

LINKS ARE IN MY PROFILE.

Please check them out. It will help my husband nag me that that much less! (He really doesn't dig the writin' for free, and he has a point...'cause we have a mortgage. Sigh.)

Thanks again!


	20. Chapter 20

Hey Kirk/T'Pring shippers!

I just published a little humorous family one-shot about them called "A Little Penis Story", and thought you might want to know.

It's in my profile.

For everyone in "Author Alert" who got a double posting...my apologies.

Cheers!

~STFW


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